


Breathing in the Chemicals

by WomanonFyre



Series: Radioactive [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, Body Worship, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Close Calls, Drama & Romance, Drug Use, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Smut, Trouble In Paradise, Trust Issues, cursing, hancock pov, it's so fluffy I'm gonna die, wholesome smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-03-07 11:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 52,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18872524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WomanonFyre/pseuds/WomanonFyre
Summary: Welcome to Part 2 in the "Radioactive" series, picking up immediately following "Waking Up to Ash and Dust."Hancock thought he had it all, but all his plans have been blown completely to hell. His love has vanished into the wasteland and Kellogg is back and wreaking havoc on the Commonwealth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back.

The pounding on the door was out of sync with the pounding in his head, intensifying his misery. Peering out from under the quilt, he blinked his eyes blearily and tried to figure out what time it was. Based on the sunlight still streaming in from the window, he judged it to be about mid-afternoon. Groaning, he pulled the quilt back over his head.

“Open the fucking door!” a voice shouted from outside. It sounded like Fahrenheit. She must be back from her jaunt to Diamond City.

The mayoral portion of his brain tried to take over and convince him to let her in, ask how things went, and start planning for the point when they had a lead on Valentine. The other part of his brain, the broken part, the part that had been left behind, was running the show right now though, so instead, he grabbed the mostly empty bottle of bourbon from his nightstand and hurled it toward the door. His aim was off, and the bottle shattered against the wall to the left of the door jam.

The voice outside cursed, and he heard footsteps retreating back down the stairs. The cessation of the external pounding was a slight improvement, but nothing was going to take away the intense pain in his heart.

He pulled the crumpled letter from where he’d dropped it on the mattress and opened it again, smoothing out the creases, reading her last words to him, written in a tidy hand so unlike the usual wasteland scrawl:

_Dear John,_

_I feel like the worst person in the world for doing this to you, and I’m so sorry. I need you to understand, though. I have to find Shaun._ _I have to._ _All of this is connected somehow—Shaun, me, you, the Institute, the crows, Kellogg—and people are going to keep getting hurt. It’s bigger than just me finding my baby, and I know that now. If Daisy had died… Oh my God, I just don’t think I could have lived with myself._

_You have a town to run, and I’ve been getting in the way of that. So I’m going to focus on finding Shaun, and I need you to focus on Goodneighbor for a while. Your people need you. I mean, you know I need you too, but right now they need you more. Don’t worry, I’m not just running out into the wastes or into the Glowing Sea. I have a plan, and it’s going to be okay. But please remember what I said—I trust you, and I need you to trust me. You said you trusted me. Don’t forget that._

_This isn’t goodbye. This is “see you later.” I just don’t know when yet. But I do know that I love you, and I trust you._

_Love,_

_Your Erica_

 

He dropped the letter next to him before opening the drawer in his nightstand to peruse his options. Over the course of the morning, he’d drank most of the bourbon and heavily dosed himself with Med-X, which had at least allowed him to escape back into sleep (and had the added bonus of eliminating dreams, so he didn’t have to endure the fresh shock that a glimpse of Erica in that godforsaken Vault would have caused). Unfortunately, the combination of the booze and the chems had led directly to the agony in his head, so he wasn’t sure he was ready for a repeat. Felt like a goddamn brahmin had sat on him.

He shoved aside Psycho (he still wanted to live through this), Buffout (so he didn’t send the next bottle of bourbon _through_ the fucking door), and Mentats (Jesus, the last thing he wanted to do was think about this _more_ ), before finally settling on his standby of Jet.

He raised the inhaler to his lips, and as he activated it and took a deep breath of the earthy, slightly sour vapors, he suddenly had a vision, clear as day, of Erica, only hours ago ( _ah, fuck, how was that possible?_ ) holding the canister for him. The inhaler fell from his shaking hand to the floor and rolled under the bed as he howled out his torment, eyes burning for the want of tears.

  
  


The pounding on the door had resumed. Couldn’t these motherfucking assholes just leave him alone? He tried his best to block it out, but then he heard the telltale sound of a key in the lock, and this finally drove him out from under the quilt.

Stark naked, he crossed the room in three quick strides and flung the door open to reveal the startled faces of Fahrenheit, MacCready, and Daisy, whose arm was still in a sling.

“What?” he roared. “What the _fuck_ do you want?”

Daisy was the first to recover. “Jesus Christ, John, put on your damn pants,” she said amiably, holding her free hand over her eyes.

He turned to her, his face twisted with pain. “Daisy… Erica… she.…”

“Yeah, I know. That’s partly why we’re here.” She pushed past him and entered the room. Glancing around, she took in the broken glass and puddle of bourbon next to the door and sighed. “Bobby, can you grab a broom? Last thing we need is to have to fish broken glass out of our mayor’s feet.” MacCready was ready to protest, but a stern glance from Daisy sent him scurrying to one of the corner alcoves.

Hancock gave in. If Daisy wanted to take charge, that was fine by him. He stepped over to his neatly folded pile of clothing, a fresh pang pulling at his guts. Grabbing his pants, he pulled them up over his skinny ass. He looked at the flag he usually wore as a belt but after last night, he just couldn’t bear to do it. He dropped the piece of ancient fabric on to the floor and kicked it under the bed, where it joined the Jet canister and other assorted detritus. Finally, he sank into his chair at his desk and held his aching head in his hands.

Fahrenheit closed the shutters, and once the mess by the door had been swept up and deposited into a trash bin, Daisy closed and locked the door. She handed the key back to Hancock, who just stared at it.

“I’m sorry, John," she said. "I’ve had this key since Vic’s time. I probably should have told you, but I was saving it for this exact sort of thing.”

He looked away, uncomfortable with the idea that she had held on to the key just in case he went nuts, but she set it down on the desk in front of him anyway, the metal clacking against the old wood.

Fahr spoke up. “Maggie and I went to Diamond City and talked with the writer and that idiot deejay, Travis. Piper—the writer—is going to put out a special bulletin in her rag and has arranged with a caravan to send flyers around the Commonwealth. Travis recorded us and is going to run our message every hour. Kent is pausing that Silver Shroud nonsense for now and set his own radio to scan for incoming messages. So the alert is out and the system is up.” She sat down on the bed. “I guess now we wait.”

Despite his efforts to shut it out, he took in all of the information Fahr had just provided, and his brain got to work sorting through it, even though it felt like gears in a rusty generator screaming in protest. “We can’t just sit around,” he finally said and attempted to ignore the trio’s looks of relief. “Kellogg is dangerous and smart. He’s protected right now by Nick’s reputation, but that won’t last long. Soon, maybe in the next day or so, he’s going to go underground, and that’s going to make things a lot worse.”

“University Point.…” MacCready murmured.

“Exactly,” Hancock said, finally starting to warm up to the task of governing and strategizing again. “We’re going to wind up with whole settlements slaughtered and no other sign of the fucker.”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t have put the alert out?” Fahr asked, her forehead creasing.

“No. The people deserve to know what’s going on. That’s the only way they’ll be ready to protect themselves. Kellogg wasn’t going to stay in hiding or play nice anyway.” He paused. A thought about radios was dancing in his head, the implications of it just out of reach. Was it something to do with Diamond City? With Kent? He pulled out his Mentats tin and popped one in his mouth, savoring the dusty mint flavor as the tablet crumbled against his tongue.

Finally, the pieces came together. He looked up.

“I’m a radio,” he said slowly, looking at Daisy.

“Did you finally flip your lid?” MacCready asked, looking at him skeptically.

“No, dammit. What I mean is, I can probably tune into Kellogg. While he was close, down in Amari’s office, I thought my head was going to explode. The pain didn’t fade until he was gone. Maybe I can… I don’t know… fine tune it a bit? Boost my reception? There’s some kind of signal he’s putting out. If I can dial into it, I can follow it to track him down before he can do too much damage. It’s…” He stopped for a moment, his voice failing him. “It’s better than sitting around here. And maybe if I’m out there…” He swallowed. “Maybe I’ll find her.”

He noticed MacCready cutting his eyes across to Fahrenheit and Fahr looking away. Daisy cleared her throat.

“What? What am I missing here?”

“Uh, Hancock? You ain’t gonna like this…” MacCready looked incredibly nervous. “I got something to tell you.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You snot-nosed little _shit!_ ”

Hancock pressed MacCready up against the wall, teeth bared, his gleaming knife at the younger man’s throat. He could feel Daisy and Fahrenheit scrabbling at his back, attempting to pull him off, but they were no match for the pure rage coursing through his veins, stronger than any hit of Psycho.

“I take you into my town,” he hissed, “and give you a place to stay—for _free!_ In my own _bar!_ I keep the motherfucking Gunners off your back! I hire your ass so you got money to send to your kid—and _this_ is how you repay me?” The knife pressed harder and small beads of blood appeared. MacCready was frozen, his wide blue eyes staring steadily into Hancock’s inky black, narrowed eyes, fear and determination warring in his expression.

“You gonna let me answer you or are you just gonna slit my throat?” Even now, Hancock could hear the cockiness in MacCready’s voice. It was one of the things he usually liked about the kid, his ability to turn to snark and sarcasm even when things looked their darkest, but he didn’t care for it nearly as much when it was turned against him. Hancock’s snarl widened, and in that moment he really did feel like he could go feral—it would be easy. Just a quick snip on the last few threads currently holding him to sanity.

“Goddammit, let him go!”

“John, have you lost your mind?”

Fahrenheit’s and Daisy’s words barely made it through the furious haze in his brain, but they were enough to begin the work of tethering him back to reality. He loosened his grip on MacCready’s shirt and pulled the knife away, just enough so that it was no longer drawing blood. The women’s hands fell away from the ridges on his back once it seemed MacCready’s life was no longer in immediate danger. They clearly wanted to hear what the mercenary had to say for himself as well. MacCready was obviously right to suspect that his announcement that he had helped Erica leave Goodneighbor was not going to go over well—with anyone.

“Okay, then, you got something to say, say it,” Hancock snarled into MacCready’s face. “Explain to me— _please_ —why you would stab me in the back like this. I’m dying to hear it.”

MacCready swallowed and then cleared his throat before speaking. In spite of the pure fury twisting Hancock’s face, MacCready didn’t shy away from looking him straight in the eye. Hancock couldn’t help but respect MacCready. Say what you want, but the kid had balls.

“She came down to the Rail early this morning," MacCready started, "before the sun came up, offering two hundred caps for a bodyguard job. I thought this was something you guys had cooked up last night, that it had to do with Kellogg and Valentine, until we crossed the bridge and headed into Cambridge. That was when she told me what was actually up.” He wiped at the wound on his neck and then glared at the blood that streaked his fingertips before turning his resentful eyes back to Hancock.

Hancock froze. “What do you mean, Cambridge? Where did she go?”

“Some police station," MacCready said with a shrug. "Bunch of those Brotherhood of Steel assho– jerks stomping around.”

Hancock shook his head in disbelief and then abruptly let go of MacCready, who staggered and nearly fell with the ghoul’s strong hands no longer pinning him to the wall. Lurching back to his desk, Hancock collapsed onto the old, rickety chair, which groaned in protest. He pulled open a drawer, hoping to find another bottle of something, anything that would get him drunk, but he only found random junk—papers, empty cigarette packs, and broken pens. His head spun and his heart raced. After all of this, she’d gone back to the Brotherhood? Why would she do such a thing? Everything she had said—to him, to Glory down in the Railroad headquarters—was it all nonsense?

He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. This was such a mess. He wanted so badly to trust her, but if she was returning to the Brotherhood… it just felt like too much of a risk. Maybe he could trust _her_ , but he couldn’t possibly trust _them_. They weren’t what was right for the Commonwealth. People needed to be free to make their own choices, it was one of his most deeply held beliefs, but the Brotherhood was wholly invested in making people's choices for them. And that was before you even accounted for their intense bigotry toward ghouls. How long before the Brotherhood decided to just go ahead and reduce a settlement like the Slog to dust? Or Goodneighbor, for that matter? The pounding in his head was back, and he wondered if he would ever be able to make it go away again.

Something moved at the edge of his vision, and he lifted his head to see MacCready squatting down next to him. MacCready put a hand on Hancock’s back and spoke softly, his words intended for Hancock alone.

“Listen, man. Once she told me where she was headed, she just let go and cried the rest of the way there. She knew how upset you were going to be, and it was killing her to be the one to put you in that position.” MacCready adjusted his position slightly and sighed, a small smile creeping across his face. “Look, Hancock, I don’t get it, man, but she is completely crazy about you. She's not betraying you, I guarantee it. Cross my heart and all that shi– nonsense.”

Hancock blinked at MacCready, holding his breath, afraid to speak, wanting desperately to believe what he was saying. MacCready took a deep breath before continuing.

“You know what she kept saying?" MacCready asked. "That Danse was expendable but you weren’t. I don’t know who or what Danse is, but I think she’s up to something, and I think that something is playing the Brotherhood. And you’re gonna love this, man. When she got there? Just before I left? Some assho– idiot in an orange jumpsuit approached and said something about how she had clearly traded up in her choice of bodyguards. I don’t know what that means, but get this—she fu– freakin’ decked the guy. For real.” MacCready grinned and chuckled. “You shoulda seen it. I think she probably broke the guy’s nose. Not gonna lie man, it was beautiful. I can see why you’re in love with her. After seeing that, I think I’m a little in love with her myself.”

The grin faded slightly, and MacCready turned his face away, attempting to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. Hancock lips twitched, and the corner of his mouth quirked up into his usual sideways smirk. She had punched that fucker Rhys? Damn, he _did_ wish he’d seen that.

“Don’t you go getting any thoughts there, kid,” Hancock said.

MacCready wiped his eyes and tried to regain his composure. Hancock was sympathetic. The kid had been through far too much shit for his young age. “And double cross you? D’you think I have a death wish or something?”

“For a minute there, I kinda thought you did. And I would’ve hated to have to be the one to grant it.” He grinned. “It’s hard to get blood out of this shirt.”

“As though you’re the one who winds up scrubbing it out,” Daisy piped up from where she stood by the door, her smile belying her grumpy tone.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He pulled his jacket from the pile of folded clothes and rummaged through it, looking for his pack of smokes. It was mostly empty, but he’d work out a trade with Daisy later to replenish. Lighting one up, he looked around the room at these people he loved so much, who’d managed to drag him out of his misery for the moment, even at great personal risk (he really did feel bad about cutting MacCready—he’d buy the kid a drink later and apologize).

In that moment, he made a decision. He’d promised to trust Erica, and he would. It wouldn’t always be easy, but he’d make a real effort. He couldn’t take too long to bask in all this touchy-feely bullshit, though. He had a town to run and a dangerous lunatic to find—a lot of work to do before Erica got back.


	3. Chapter 3

“Remind me why the hell we’re doing this again?”

They’d left Goodneighbor en route for what remained of the Boston Public Library a half an hour ago, and Hancock was pretty sure that MacCready hadn’t stopped complaining since. He gritted his teeth and formulated a reply that didn’t involve the business end of his shotgun.

“Daisy loaned Erica a book. The book was in the pack that got left behind in Cambridge. I want to replace the book. And clear the damn place out so Daisy and whoever else wants to can come and go in peace.” He sighed. “And just get the fuck out of town for a while.”

He hadn’t mentioned it to MacCready, but he’d also loaded up on various chems, hoping that maybe one of them would allow him to fine tune the receiver in his head so that he could pick up some trace of Kellogg. He hadn’t run this particular idea past Dr. Amari to get her opinion on its viability, but he thought it was worth a try to experiment a bit while he was out on the city streets. It had been several days since Kellogg had fled in Nick Valentine’s body, and he was frustrated with the complete silence on the radio. Fahr had brought him a copy of the flyers Piper had written and then printed off, so he knew word was getting around the Commonwealth, but there had been no trace of the Institute mercenary. And while no settlements had suddenly gone radio silent and nobody had turned up missing, he wasn’t entirely sure that no news was good news.

“And why am I being dragged along, exactly?” MacCready kicked at a chunk of concrete, sending it dancing across the crumbling road.

“I’m paying you, ain’t I?" Hancock said, irritated. "Plus Fahr said she’d spotted a few more Gunners sniffing around Goodneighbor. Thought it might be a good idea to get _you_ the fuck out of town, too.”

MacCready groaned. “It’s just those two assho– morons Winlock and Barnes. They don’t scare me.”

Hancock glared at him. “They _should_ fuckin’ scare you, you idiot," he said. "They’ve started getting a lot more persistent and belligerent. Since this whole mess with Kellogg and Valentine, I don’t think they’re quite as nervous about starting a turf war, and I ain’t sure that Goodneighbor is the protection for you that it used to be. So we get you outta town for a bit and let Fahr handle them.” He’d heard a few of the rumors going around, some of them centering on the fact that Kellogg had incapacitated him and then managed to get away right under his… well, not his _nose_ , exactly, but right in front of him. There were murmurs that Hancock was losing his touch, and they scared him. Mostly because he himself was worried that he was losing his touch.

“I miss all the fun,” the younger man grumbled.

“Hardly,” Hancock replied with a sideways grin. “You get to take on a building full of super mutants. I’d say that’s a hell of a lot more fun than dealing with those jackasses.”

MacCready muttered a bit more beneath his breath and Hancock heard a few more words about how he wouldn’t know fun if it jumped up and bit his ass (oh, but little did MacCready know, that was the _best_ kind of fun). As the men approached the Commons, they both held their tongues and stepped lighter.

As they crept along the remains of Boylston Street, gunshots rattled off a few blocks over, followed by a nearby explosion that sent shock waves through the ground. Both men jumped and then froze. A bird called somewhere in the city and a dog barked, but nothing else moved. Hancock spotted a column of smoke rising to the east, in the general direction of the old medical center. His jaw clenched.

“Probably one of those Brotherhood vertibirds,” MacCready said in a low voice. “Idiots have yet to meet a building they didn’t fly directly into.”

Hancock glanced at MacCready. It was sometimes easy to forget, but the kid had come up from the Capital Wasteland only about a year or so ago. He’d been through more than most people deal with in a lifetime by the time he was twenty, and he claimed to have played a role in all the insanity that had gone down in D.C. about ten years ago. That would have made him about thirteen at the time though, and Hancock wasn’t entirely sure whether or not to believe him. Still, occasionally MacCready would throw out a casual comment that seemed to confirm the stories Hancock had been told about the Enclave, the Brotherhood of Steel, and the so-called Lone Wanderer, and Hancock had yet to hear MacCready say anything that conflicted with his accounts. If he _was_ a liar, he was a damn good one.

Hancock opened his mouth to ask MacCready a question about the Brotherhood, but before he could get a word out, the ground trembled violently, nearly knocking him off his feet. Another explosion? No….

His eyes widened in horror as an enormous, monstrous being emerged from the scummy water of the park’s pond, apparently awakened by the nearby explosion.

“ _Oh, shit!_ ” MacCready screamed next to him, and Hancock nearly froze with shock as the younger man darted off into the shadows of the buildings lining Boylston. He’d thought the kid was many things, but a coward had never been one of them.

As he got a better view of the nightmare rising out of the water, he realized what it was—an oversized super mutant, often referred to as a behemoth. It appeared to be wearing some strange sort of armor fashioned from the old swan boats pre-war people had once used to paddle around the lake on lazy summer afternoons. Suddenly the signs posted around the Commons warning passersby to “Beware the Swan” made perfect sense. The creature rose to its full height, towering above the nearby buildings. It raised one arm above its head, wielding some type of rusted metal weapon Hancock couldn’t immediately identify.

The behemoth slammed its weapon down, smashing it into the ground. Clots of earth flew into the air from the impact, and this time the shock wave did knock Hancock over. He landed hard on his ass. The creature began moving toward Hancock, his movements slow and lumbering, shaking the ground and the nearby buildings. Dislodged bricks and mortar fell all around him, crumbling to dust when they hit the pavement.

He quickly realized that running was probably the smartest move after all and not the cowardice he had originally judged it as. He preferred close-up work with a shotgun and knife, and he couldn’t imagine either weapon having much of an effect on this thing. He scrambled to his feet and turned to follow MacCready but then heard the mercenary’s voice shout from somewhere above him.

“Hey, fucker, over here!” The familiar crack of MacCready’s rifle quickly followed. Hancock saw the behemoth flinch and pause, then swipe at its forehead. Another crack, and the creature roared in pain, the sound nearly deafening. Hancock looked on in wonder as the behemoth staggered around, howling. When it straightened back up, he realized that MacCready had managed to put out one of its eyes. He’d always known that the sniper was highly skilled, but to hit such a tiny target under such pressure... He couldn’t lie—he was impressed.

“Hancock!” He could barely hear the kid through the ringing in his ears and the racket the creature was making. He looked up and spotted MacCready perched on a roof next to a window, waving his arms at him. “Get out of here! I’ll keep him occupied!”

And give his constituents further reason to doubt his leadership? Not a chance. Hancock turned back to the creature, which was once again slowly advancing, swinging the enormous object Hancock could now identify as an anchor. He grinned and reached into his coat pocket. His fingers brushed against the tin that currently held Buffout capsules in addition to Mentats and a Med-X syringe before finding an inhaler. He barely glanced at it before pressing it against his lips, only long enough to note that it was Ultrajet and not regular Jet. He took a deep breath as he activated the inhaler.

One of the things he loved so much about Jet was how quickly the fumes went to work on his brain, and with Ultrajet, everything was ramped up by a factor of at least ten. The chemical had barely hit his lungs before time seemed to slow and he felt like he could, all on his own, take on the world, including this behemoth motherfucker. He cocked his shotgun and ran straight at the creature.

“Hancock, no!” He barely registered MacCready’s cry. The rifle cracked again, and a bloody spot appeared on the behemoth’s cheek. Whatever. He couldn’t let MacCready have all the fun.

“Hey, ugly!” he yelled, grinning like a fool at the irony. Unsheathing his knife, he danced between the creature’s enormous ankles and slashed at one of its tendons. The cut wasn’t as deep as he had hoped, but he’d certainly gotten its attention. The behemoth lifted up his injured leg and stomped down, aiming for Hancock. Between his naturally quick reflexes and the added assistance of the chem, the ghoul was far too fast for the lumbering behemoth. The stomp sent a tremor up the behemoth’s leg, causing it to shriek in pain. The force of the impact sent Hancock to his knees, but he was up again just as quickly.

Another crack from MacCready’s rifle and the behemoth’s other eye extinguished. It shrieked again, the sound piercing into Hancock’s brain and causing him to raise his hands to what was left of his ears in an effort to block the horrible sound. He ran around to the other side, as the behemoth staggered and limped in a confused circle. One enormous hand went to the ground, and it scooped up earth and boulders, which it flung in the general direction of the buildings where MacCready perched. The boulders crashed into the wall of the building, causing it to buckle and one of the interior floors to collapse. The building itself remained intact, and Hancock could already see MacCready emerging from behind the dormer window. Before MacCready could aim and fire again, Hancock took another swipe at the behemoth’s tendon, this time putting more force behind the knife. The tendon gave way, and with yet another deafening howl, the behemoth fell to its knees. It attempted to crawl with its hands splayed out in front of it, like some sort of insanely terrifying baby that hadn’t yet learned to walk. The rifle cracked and the creature’s nose disintegrated, sending globs of flesh flying.

“Keep it up and nobody will be able to tell us apart!” Hancock yelled gleefully. He doubted that MacCready could hear him, but it didn’t matter. He was enjoying himself.

The behemoth had clearly had enough. It was crawling around blindly in a circle, hands patting the ground around it, looking for something familiar. It was time to put the damn thing out of its misery.

One of the creature’s arms was covered in the remains of a boat’s hull. The pointed end dug into the ground as it scrambled and pawed around, creating divots and furrows in the already scarred earth. Hancock ran to it and grabbed the edge, using it to swing himself up onto the creature’s shoulder. He rammed his shotgun against the behemoth’s distorted ear and fired. With nowhere else to go, the recoil knocked Hancock backward, and he slid down the curved piece of hull to the ground, his ankle twisting painfully beneath him.

The shot appeared to have done the trick, however, as the creature slumped to the side for a moment before falling heavily. The sudden silence was concealed by the high-pitched ringing in Hancock’s ears. Moments later, MacCready appeared by his side, extending an arm to help Hancock to his feet.

“You okay?” The sniper’s voice barely made it through the ringing.

“Could probably use a Stimpak on my ankle so I can walk the rest of the way, but yeah, mostly,” Hancock answered with a crooked grin. The Ultrajet and adrenaline were both starting to wear off, and he leaned on MacCready. Despite the pain in his ankle, he was pretty goddamn pleased with the both of them.

“I can’t believe this,” MacCready said, wide eyes trained on the dead behemoth. “No wonder nobody ever went through the Commons.” He chuckled. “I guess it’s safe again now. You know, except for all the raiders and super mutants and shi– stuff.”

“And you thought this little trip wouldn’t be fun,” Hancock said with a smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

They hauled ass out of the Commons before anyone else could come admire their handiwork, Hancock limping on his injured ankle and both of them giggling hysterically from the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. Twenty minutes later, they found themselves standing in front of the former Boston Public Library and feeling far more sober.

“Looks quiet to me,” MacCready commented, pulling his rifle from its usual place across his back. “You sure it’s full of super mutants?”

“That’s what everyone says,” Hancock replied. “Everyone who makes it back at any rate.”

“Maybe we can just get the book and get out.”

Hancock glared at him. “That ain’t what I hired you for,” he said.

“Seems to me like you already got your money’s worth,” MacCready responded with a cocky grin.

“We can talk about overtime pay when we’re back in Goodneighbor,” Hancock said. He paced back and forth a bit in front of the locked gates before stepping up to them, grabbing hold, and rattling them fiercely. The jangling echoed down the deserted streets and earned him a nervous cough from MacCready.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea in the world, boss,” he said, his highly trained eyes cutting back and forth in search of danger. “All these tall buildings make me nervous. Way too many places for a sniper to hide.”

“How the fuck are you supposed to get in?” Hancock muttered in irritation, ignoring MacCready. He took a step back to consider the problem. “There must be some kinda side entrance. Come on.” He stepped forward. MacCready hesitated, opened his mouth to say something, then reconsidered and followed, his grip tightening on his rifle.

As they rounded the corner of the building, Hancock spotted a small staircase leading downward to a basement-level door. He jogged down the steps and yanked on the door's handle. Locked. “Dammit,” he murmured. He turned to MacCready, who had remained at the top of the staircase. “Don’t suppose you’re any good with a bobby pin?”

“Not particularly,” MacCready replied.

Hancock sighed. “Wish Sunshine was here. She’s been teaching herself to pick locks and was getting pretty good at it.” He leaned back against the wall across from the door and lit a cigarette. “I mean, that ain’t the only reason I wish she was here. Fuck.” He glared at the lock as if it had personally offended him, his thoughts darkening.

MacCready finally came down the steps. “What’s this box here, with the button?”

Hancock shrugged himself out of his deepening spiral to look. Sure enough, there was some kind of communication device next to the door that he had completely missed. He shrugged. “Well, why the fuck not,” he said and pressed the button. “Hopefully it ain’t some kinda self-destruct scenario.”

“Welcome to the Boston Public Library,” proclaimed a tinny voice from the speaker. “The library is now closed.”

“No shit,” Hancock grumbled.

The voice continued. “Only library employees and those with previous appointments may enter.”

“Guess we’ll have to call and make an appointment,” MacCready laughed.

“No appointments are booked for today,” the voice from the speaker said.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Hancock snarled and furiously stubbed his cigarette out on the wall. “How about this—I _am_ an employee, you stupid machine.”

“Please provide your six-digit employee ID number,” responded the voice.

Hancock groaned. “Come on! Give me a fucking break.” He kicked at the door. “Fine,” he said, sarcasm heavy in his raspy voice. “It’s 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6!”

“Are you crazy?” MacCready asked. “That’s the one number that would never work! No idiot would use an ID number like….”

“Welcome, Mr. Mayor. Please enjoy your visit.” The door clicked and both men stared at the speaker, mouths open and speechless.

“Just… how?” MacCready asked. “How the fu– heck did it know you?”

Hancock was the first to recover. “It doesn’t know me,” he said, rolling his dark eyes in exasperation. “It was probably the number for the Mayor of Boston back before the war. Fucking lousy security. Those assholes deserved to be bombed into oblivion.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Erica had come from that time. Had she and everything she had known deserved to be annihilated? Well, Nate had, obviously. His brain spun off balance for a moment, trying to imagine the world she had lived in, the insanity of those in power, and the innocence of everyone else who had just been trying to do their best to survive.

He noticed MacCready watching him, concern in his eyes, and collected himself. He pulled the door open, and the two men entered the dusty gloom of the wreckage of the Boston Public Library.

  
  
  
  


They stepped into a small, dim room, filled with toppled bookshelves, busted computer monitors, and other assorted wreckage. Incredibly, a few emergency lights still shone, illuminating a set of double doors that loosely hung off their jambs.

MacCready looked down at his rifle. “I’m not sure I’m the best guy for this job, Hancock,” he said quietly, his voice full of worry. “The up-close work isn’t really my forté.”

“Well, I love the up-close work,” Hancock replied with a grin, “so I’d say we make the perfect team. If we have to fight, just step back and try not to hit me, okay?”

“What if one of them gets the drop on me? What am I supposed to do, hit it with my rifle?”

Hancock shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” MacCready looked scandalized, and Hancock chuckled. “Don’t let anything get the drop on you then,” he said.

MacCready muttered to himself, words that sounded vaguely like the ones he usually tried to avoid.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Hancock said. “Come on.” They pushed past the askew double doors into an enormous open hall. His eyes opened wide at the site.

A coffered ceiling arched high above them and light filtered through the tall windows, erasing the gloom. Despite the rubbish littering the area, the room was mostly intact, and it wasn’t hard to imagine how the library might have looked in its glory days, filled with patrons, glowing with sunlight. A feeling of reverence rose in Hancock, one he’d never experienced in any sort of church. This building was a cathedral, built for worshipping the gods of knowledge and learning.

It was easy to imagine Erica sitting and studying for her law degree at one of the many tables, head bent over a thick book, pen scratching across the pages of a notepad, surrounded by piles of additional books. He knew the building had been old even in her day. Perhaps not as old as the State House he called home, but still an antique. He thought briefly of bringing her here when she returned (whenever that might be) but then thought the shock of seeing the wreckage of the building might destroy her. He could only imagine its glory; she had seen it with her own eyes.

A quick glance at the shelves lining the hall disappointed Hancock. Hardly any books remained on the shelves, just junk. A few cases that might once have protected artifacts remained, but their contents had been pilfered long ago. The stink of mold hung heavy in the air, and the walls creaked around them as if the ancient building were alive and adjusting to the two intruders.

“Hey boss, look,” MacCready whispered and nudged him. Hancock looked in the direction the sniper gestured with his rifle. Hastily assembled platforms rose from the cracked tiles of the floor. Sandbags surrounded the wooden structures, apparently made from the tables that had once filled the room, and a few freestanding turrets slowly rotated.

“Think they’ll identify us as intruders?” Hancock replied. Like MacCready, he kept his voice low.

“They haven’t yet. I think we might be okay.”

A loud clanking heralded the arrival of a Protectron at the far end of the hall. Both men raised their weapons to readiness, but the robotic security guard ignored them and continued to walk in its prescribed pattern.

They moved slowly across the room, gaping at the immensity of it and the remaining traces of murals and inscribing on the walls.

“I don’t get it,” MacCready said in his normal tone. His voice echoed off the tiles and ceiling and both men instinctively flinched, expecting the turrets to whir to life. When nothing happened, they continued walking and MacCready completed his thought. “This is a library. Where are all the books?”

“It’s a big building,” Hancock mused. “We might have to poke around in some of the other rooms. Might be this was more of a meeting space? Or it’s just been thoroughly ransacked and all the books have disappeared into the Wasteland over the years. I’m hoping that ain’t the case.”

MacCready gestured at the turrets and the Protectron with his rifle. “Should we just take them out?” he asked.

“Nah,” Hancock said. “They ain’t hurting us, so we ain’t gotta hurt them.” He turned slowly around in the open space. “Why don’t we get started checking some of these other rooms?”

The two men turned to head back the way they had come, but just that moment, an amplified version of the voice from the speaker echoed through the hallway, causing them to freeze in their tracks. “Attention,” it said, “Security breach near subway entrance.” The turrets stopped their random rotation and swung toward the men. They both raised the weapons, but the turrets didn’t fire.

“I don’t think it means us,” MacCready said.

“Me either,” Hancock replied. “That’s gotta mean…” He was cut off by the familiar howl of a mutated hound. “Fuck! Super mutants!”

Moments later, loud voices could be heard bellowing from another room. Most of it sounded garbled, but out of the mess a rough voice rang out: “Only one of this survives this, and it won’t be you!”

Hancock spun to MacCready. “Get back behind the turrets! Let them do the work, and we won’t get caught in the crossfire!” They both dashed behind the sandbag-covered barricades as the doors banged open hard enough to make the enormous room shudder.


	5. Chapter 5

Breathing heavily, both men clutched their weapons as they heard the turrets tearing the first few mutants through the door into ribbons. The turrets continued to fire, as did the Protectron from its place in between the two platforms, but it seemed the remaining super mutants had wised up somewhat and determined that a full-on frontal assault might not be the best strategy.

The turrets and Protectron were now taking damage as the mutants hung back and returned fire. “Watch out for ricochet!” MacCready shouted, ducking back further and pulling his cap down close around his ears. Hancock could see what he meant. While most of the shots seemed to hit their marks and puncture through the metal bodies, a few caught at an angle and went zinging off in random directions.

He spotted MacCready crawling around to the far side of the platform they hid behind, where the sandbags curved around to offer better protection. The sniper’s rifle began cracking at regular intervals as if to punctuate the constant roar of the turrets. The syncopated blasts of the Protectron’s lasers sang atop of the bass of the guns, providing melody to the strange symphony.

Hancock shook his head and blinked, trying to force himself out of his hypnotized reverie. Why was he letting MacCready and the machines have all the fun? Removing his hat to reduce his visibility, he scooted forward and peeked around to get the lay of the land.

The door they had come through was practically barricaded by the bodies of dead super mutants, and yet more remained, just out of sight, occasionally appearing for a split second to fire shots at the turrets and robot. He ducked back and patted his pockets for his Jet inhaler. It was nearly impossible to tell how many mutants there were; for all he knew, there could be a never-ending supply pouring up out of the subway station beneath the library.

“Hancock!”

He barely heard MacCready’s voice over the din, but he looked over toward him as he held the canister to his lips.

MacCready, prone on the floor, his rifle pointed forward, was waving one arm at him frantically. Was he hurt? No… he was saying something….

“The turret! It’s gonna....”

Just then, the turret between them exploded with a thundering blast, throwing Hancock sideways into the Protectron and directly into the super mutants’ line of vision. He coughed, trying to recover the air that had been knocked out of his lungs, and his sight blurred. His arm was warm and uncomfortable, and his head spun. There was a dreaminess to the entire moment, as if he had foregone the Jet and opted instead for a hefty dose of Med-X or even the psychedelic Day Tripper.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw MacCready scramble to his feet and leap across to him. The younger man swatted briefly at his arm, and Hancock momentarily caught a whiff of something burning. They’d have to be careful, he thought, his mind whirling. The place was filled with paper and wood. They were essentially standing in the middle of a pyre an instant before it was lit. As MacCready dragged him back behind the other platform and the safety it offered, he marveled over the kid’s strength. Small and wiry as he was, it still seemed no challenge to move the ghoul, even without any assistance.

MacCready pulled a Stimpak out of one of the many pockets sewn into his duster. He tugged at Hancock’s shirt enough to expose skin and jabbed the syringe in. As the chem worked, Hancock’s brain cleared and he registered enormous pain everywhere, especially in the arm MacCready had been swatting at.

“Ow!” he rasped out. “What the fuck, man?” He slapped MacCready’s hand away, but the kid was already ready with another Stimpak.

“Hang on, gimme a sec!” MacCready yelled. The remaining turret, just above them, let out a strange mechanical squeal, and the sniper cut his eyes up toward it. “Dammit!” Yanking Hancock over his shoulder, he rolled, putting the wall of sandbags between them and the turret. Another explosion rocked the hall and burning bits of metal showered down around them. Before the mutants could recover and regroup, MacCready pulled Hancock back behind the platform and stuck him with the second Stimpak. Hancock felt the familiar itch of skin knitting seemingly all over his body. Exactly how badly injured had he been?

The Protectron, which had been firing feebly for the last minute or so, went dark and fell over. “Is it gonna explode?” Hancock said.

MacCready spared it a glance, his blue eyes wide. “No, we’re okay,” he said. “Let’s get you cleaned up before we get another wave.”

“What do you mean?” Hancock asked, sitting up. The world tilted again, briefly, but everything cleared when he shook his head. Looking down at himself, he was horrified. He counted at least four bullet holes in the legs of his jeans and two on his white, ruffled top, which was now splotched with blood. The left edge of his coat was charred. He twisted his torso to get a better view of his arm, which ached and itched, and saw that a wide section of the sleeve was burned away. The scarred skin beneath was reknitting itself, and he suddenly realized how severely injured he had been. He looked across to MacCready and noted the ghastly whiteness of the young man’s face, the way his hands shook, and the tears standing in the corners of his eyes. “Oh, shit,” he breathed.

“I thought you were dead for sure,” MacCready said, his voice breaking. “Erica would have torn me from limb to limb if you’d died on my watch.”

A bolt from a laser weapon split the air over their head. “One sec,” MacCready said and jumped up with his rifle. He fired, and Hancock heard the sound of a heavy body hitting the floor. MacCready paused for a moment, his eye to the scope, his tongue poking slightly out of the corner of his mouth and his nostrils flaring. Hancock swallowed. Everything hurt and he wasn’t sure he was in any shape to help if there were more. Finally, MacCready nodded and lowered himself back behind the platform.

“I think that’s it. For now, at least.” He removed his hat and swiped an arm across his sweaty forehead.

“Thanks, man,” Hancock said. “For… you know.”

MacCready leaned back against the sandbags, his eyes closed. “Yeah, yeah. No problem. All in a day’s work, boss.”

“I think you’ve definitely earned that overtime pay now.”

MacCready didn’t open his eyes, but the ghost of a small smile danced briefly across his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

Hancock stayed put while MacCready scoured the room for items they could burn. He was itching to go hunting for the goddamn book and get back to Goodneighbor, but every time he stood up, the world spun. He tried to argue that this wasn’t all that different from his usual state of being, but MacCready wouldn’t hear it.

 _Man’s worse than a clucking mother_ , Hancock thought to himself, rolling his eyes. Still, it was nice to be fussed over. Sort of. He’d never admit it to anyone in Goodneighbor, and he’d have to make MacCready promise to never speak of any of this to anyone either.

He watched as MacCready flipped one of the tables and then kicked at the legs until they detached. He felt a pang of guilt, thinking, once again, of the possibility that Erica had studied at that table at some point in her past. It was a ridiculous thing to feel guilty over—and he knew it full well—but he couldn’t help it.

MacCready returned with a thick book that was practically disintegrating with age and several wooden table legs. He got to work building a fire on the ceramic tiles, singing to himself quietly. Hancock watched for a bit with heavy eyes. There was no denying his exhaustion. In a single day he’d managed to take out a fucking super mutant behemoth and get blown half to bits. He was also pretty sure he’d managed to completely fuck up the hearing in his left ear. The ringing had dissipated, but now it was obvious that sounds were significantly diminished on that side. He tested it, covering one ear and then the next. MacCready’s off-key rendition of “Easy Living” faded out almost completely when his right ear was covered, and Hancock shook his head in frustration. He hated to think what losing the hearing in one ear would do to his perception and reflexes. It would definitely make it easier to get the drop on him, and that was a serious problem in this fucked-up world.

Sighing, he reached out and grabbed one of the pages MacCready had pulled from the book to use as tinder. The writing on it was dense and small, but the meaning was crystal clear:

_SEC. 12. That no Chinese person shall be permitted to enter the United States by land without producing to the proper officer of customs the certificate in this act required of Chinese persons seeking to land from a vessel. And any Chinese person found unlawfully within the United States shall be caused to be removed therefrom to the country from whence he came, by direction of the President of the United States, and the cost of the United States, after being brought before some justice, judge, or commissioner of a court of the United States and found to be one not lawfully entitled to be or remain in the United States._

_SEC. 13. That this act shall not apply to diplomatic and other officers of the Chinese Government traveling upon the business of that government, whose credentials shall be taken as equivalent to the certificate in the act mentioned, and shall exempt them and their body and household servants from the provisions of this act to other Chinese persons._

_SEC. 14. That hereafter no State court or court of the United States shall admit Chinese to citizenship; and all laws in conflict with this act are hereby repealed._

_SEC. 15. That the words, “Chinese laborers,” wherever used in this act shall be construed to mean both skilled and unskilled laborers and Chinese employed in mining._

_Approved, May 6, 1882._

Jesus. Four hundred years ago. Was this how everything had started? Had the animosity between the countries really gone back that far?

“Hey, Mac,” he called out, his voice sounding tired even to himself. MacCready looked up, his eyebrows raised. “What the hell book is that?” Hancock asked.

MacCready glanced at the cover and then flipped what was left of the book over to Hancock, who caught it deftly and read the title. _From 1882 to 2066: A History of Sino-American Relations and Chinese Aggression._ Hancock snorted at the title. Chinese aggression, huh? He was no expert, but from what he’d just read, it kinda sounded like the U.S. had started it. He’d grown up learning what bastards the Chinese were, as had all kids in the Diamond City schoolhouse. It was a stupid thing to teach, in his opinion. Plenty of people with Chinese ancestry lived in Diamond City, and their kids had been in his classroom, including Myrna and James Sun, now Diamond City’s doctor. Come to think of it, he wondered if those early lessons had contributed to their charming personalities. Yesterday the Chinese, today the ghouls. What was even the point? It wasn't like either country even existed anymore. Some things never changed.

He tossed the book to the side, leaned back against the wall of sandbags, and stretched his legs out, closing his eyes for a moment.

  
  
  
  


He woke up several hours later. Sunlight no longer poured through the enormous windows, and the darkness made the room feel like a cave, lit only by the crackling fire. An open can of Cram sat near him along with a package of Dandy-Boy apples. MacCready stood watch across the fire, quietly making repairs to his rifle.

Hancock cleared his throat and stretched his arms out. His back popped and his muscles screamed. He was going to pay for falling asleep sitting up.

“Hey boss,” MacCready said. “How you feeling?”

“Like yao guai shit,” Hancock rasped. He gestured at the food. “Where’d you find this?”

“While you slept, I went poking around a bit. Found the guy who must have set up all these defenses back in the far corner. He’s been dead for a long time, but he had some stuff around him, including some food. There’s a live computer back there too, but it’s password protected and I can’t get in.”

Hancock reached down and pulled some chunks of Cram out of the can. He looked at it with distaste, but he was pretty damn hungry, so he ate it. You took what you could get. MacCready went back to working on his rifle and Hancock watched him. The sniper whistled a bit while he worked. “You seem pretty content, all things considered,” Hancock observed.

“It probably sounds crazy, but this place reminds me of home,” MacCready said, inspecting his scope.

“The Capital Wasteland?” Hancock replied. “Did you spend a lot of time in libraries or something? Never thought of you as the intellectual type.”

MacCready paused in his inspection to shoot Hancock a withering glance. “No, I’m talking about where I lived when I was a kid. Little Lamplight. I've told you about it before, remember? It was a series of caves that backed up against an old Vault. This room reminds of the central caverns. They had high ceilings and just felt really safe to us. I mean, we didn’t know at the time that the Vault behind us was full of super mutants and centaurs, not until that ‘Lone Wanderer’ girl turned up and broke in anyway.” He shuddered. “I’m not a huge fan of those hounds the mutants up this way have, but they’re a helluva lot less creepy than the damn centaurs.”

Hancock nodded slowly. “I’ve never seen one, but I’ve heard about them. Pretty gruesome.”

“Yeah.” MacCready grimaced. “Anyway, sometimes when I’m creeping around out in the open, I realize how much I miss that cave and the other kids.”

“And I remember you saying you were the mayor,” Hancock mused, a sideways smile on his face.

MacCready chuckled. “I know, it sounds completely insane. But we made it work.”

The two men were quiet for a while. Hancock finished his makeshift dinner, and MacCready reattached his scope and set the rifle aside. The fire burned lower, and the sniper added another table leg to it. After a bit, Hancock took off his damaged coat and inspected the hole in the left arm.

“Your coat is gonna match mine soon,” MacCready commented. “Lost so many pieces of it, I finally just pulled the whole arm off. It was mostly thread and patches by that point anyway.”

Hancock sighed. “Damn thing was holding up pretty good too.” He stuck his gnarled fingers through the hole and wiggled them around. “I’ll see if Daisy can patch it.” Before setting the coat to the side, he pulled a syringe of Med-X out of the inner pocket. MacCready watched as he prepped the syringe and then injected it into his arm.

“You still hurting?” MacCready asked, his eyebrows crinkling in concern. “I was hoping the Stimpak had taken care of things.”

Hancock sat in silence, his aches fading away, his thoughts whirling as the Med-X soared through his veins. He caught a glimpse of the stars through the tall windows and couldn’t help but wonder where Erica was right now, at this very moment. Still at the station in Cambridge? Wandering the wastes? Dead in the Glowing Sea?

His breath hitched and caught at the thought, as his body reacted to the immensity of his powerlessness over the situation. His fear at the loss of control was nearly paralyzing.

MacCready moved to his side. “Hey, man, you okay?” Hancock pulled his legs in, his knees close to his chest, and leaned forward, slowly shaking his head. He felt the sniper’s hand against his back, hesitantly. “What is it?” the younger man asked, his voice anxious. “Is a bullet lodged somewhere? What can I do?” MacCready's voice sounded clear in one of Hancock’s ears, muffled in the other and another jolt of helplessness and hopelessness shook him. His body trembled with the effort of holding it all together.

Finally, he spoke, his voice rougher than usual. “I want… I want to go get her, Mac,” he said. The pressure of MacCready’s hand on his back increased momentarily. “It’s killing me to not know where she is… how she is.”

He heard the faint sound of MacCready breathing out through his nose. “I’ve never seen you like this,” the young sniper said. “You got it bad.”

Hancock laughed, humorlessly. “Yeah,” he replied, nodding. “Yeah, I do. Never thought of myself as someone who would get so attached to one person. Thought that was something for idiots. You get attached like that… well, the wasteland is a cruel place, y’know?”

MacCready was silent for a moment. When he finally responded, his voice was nearly as rough as Hancock’s. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” His voice cracked on the last word.

Realizing what he had said, Hancock looked up to see two tears slowly tracking down the other man’s cheeks.

“Aw, shit, Mac. I’m sorry, man. I… I wasn’t thinking.” In his own selfish despair, he’d completely forgotten the sniper’s history and what had eventually brought him to the Commonwealth—the loss of his wife, the illness of his son. MacCready was so young… it was easy to forget the lifetime of grief he’d already experienced.

MacCready sniffed and roughly wiped away the tears before they could reach the edges of his neatly trimmed goatee. “I know. It’s… it’s okay.” He cleared his throat. “She’s pretty tough, your Erica. I never would have believed it when she first turned up. She looked like a total mess, lost, half-starved. I don’t know how she made it to Goodneighbor. But now? When we were traveling to Cambridge, she moved so quietly she was practically blending into the shadows. She took down a raider before he even knew she was there. And that dog? It protects her without a second thought. When it looks at her…” He snorted. “Kinda the same expression you get around her, come to think of it.”

Hancock rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“Anyway, she takes no sh– no stuff from anyone. I think she’s gonna be just fine.” He smirked. “And I think the Brotherhood is never gonna know what hit it.”

“I know I gotta do better about trusting her, it’s just…” Hancock shrugged helplessly.

“Well, you’ve been given a lotta reasons not to trust anyone,” MacCready said. “We all have, haven’t we? But if we go around refusing to trust each other, we turn into just another pack of raiders or Gunners or something.” He looked Hancock squarely in the face, his light blue eyes serious. “You’re one of the smartest guys I know and a helluva good judge of character. I trust you with my life, and so does every single person in Goodneighbor. You haven’t let me down yet. So tell me, right now, from your gut. Do you trust Erica? Or do you think she’s gonna go all in on the Brotherhood’s bullshit?”

Hancock considered the question, listening for the voice in his head, that sensation in his stomach when something was off. The sensation that had protected him countless times in the past. He thought about the dreams he’d had featuring Kellogg and Amari suggesting that his intuition could be strong enough to be called psychic. All he felt was a wave of love and admiration.

“Yeah, man,” he said. “I trust her.”

“Okay then, enough of this back-and-forth nonsense," MacCready said. "Quit beating yourself up.”

Hancock grunted in both annoyance and approval. They were both quiet for a few minutes.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” Hancock finally said, breaking the silence. “I don’t deserve someone like her.”

MacCready laughed. “No argument there. She has terrible taste in men.”

Hancock growled and threw the empty can of Cram at the sniper, knocking the man’s cap off. “I’m a slight improvement over the last asshole,” he said.

“Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night,” MacCready replied with a grin as he reached for his hat. “But if you fu– mess this up, just know I’ll be happy to help her pick up the pieces.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The text Hancock finds in the book is from the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. As Hancock observed, some things never change.


	7. Chapter 7

They moved swiftly through the rest of the library. Hancock finally found stashes of books hidden away in rooms and offices. He suspected that when things had gotten bad, the employees of the library had moved the books to safer locations, hoping to protect them. While they had succeeded in their mission, it was now time to disseminate those books back out across the Commonwealth, into the hands of people who would appreciate them and the treasures they contained within their dusty but intact pages. With the library cleared of super mutants, he could dispatch a team from Goodneighbor for the sole purpose of hauling books back to town. _Maybe they could create their own library in one of the newly abandoned warehouses_ , he mused. He’d check with Daisy and see if she was up for the task of organizing it. In the meantime, though, he just wanted to find that one particular book and repay his debt to his friend.

“What’s the name of the book again?” MacCready asked, squinting at a book’s spine.

“ _Withering Highs,_ or something like that,” Hancock answered as he sorted through a nearby pile. “Apparently it was old even prewar, but it was still popular.”

“‘Withering High,’” MacCready snickered. “That could be your new nickname.”

Hancock glared at him, his sense of humor severely diminished. “Fuck off, MacCready.” His head still hurt from the percussive injury of the day before, and his hearing had not returned. He wasn’t in the mood for the kid's bullshit today—he just wanted to find the book and leave. Switching to another pile of books, he sighed. “I’m glad they kept all the books, but it would have been nice if they’d put them in boxes or something, made them easier to sort through. Whose idea was this anyway?”

“Ghosts,” MacCready intoned solemnly.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Hancock said, irritably.

“No human being would stack books like this.” Hancock stared at him, baffled, and MacCready maintained a straight face for only a couple of seconds before bursting out laughing.

Hancock shook his head. “You got brain damage from all the explosions yesterday?”

MacCready grinned and wiped away a tear. “It’s from an old movie,” he explained. “We had a stack of movie holos back in Little Lamplight, so we’d hold movie nights. I must have seen that one a hundred times.”

Hancock shook his head, sighed, and got back to work sorting through the pile. They worked in silence for the next twenty minutes, MacCready occasionally whispering to himself and snickering. Finally, the sniper held up a thick book with an embossed, leather-bound cover.

“This one’s title is pretty close. Take a look.” He slid it across the table to Hancock, who ran his fingers over the faded letters. _Wuthering Heights._ He jumped up.

“Fucking finally!” he cried. “I knew it had to be here!” He stowed it in his coat. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  
  
  
  


As they exited the library back onto Boylston, Hancock’s head ached even worse than before. He paused and massaged his furrowed brow with his fingers.

“You okay?” MacCready asked, his voice filled with concern.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Hancock said, wincing. “My head’s been aching all morning, but now... It’s kinda like when….” He suddenly stood completely still, his black eyes darting around up and down the street. “Mac, he’s here. He’s nearby.”

MacCready’s blue eyes widened. “Wait, you mean Nick—er, Kellogg? Or… whatever they are now?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He turned slowly, trying to fine tune which direction to go based on the pain in his head. “I don’t know what to do though. If I’m gonna have pain like this every time we get nearby, how’m I supposed to go after him?” He punched his own thigh in frustration.

MacCready squinted and peered around them. “He could be hiding anywhere,” he commented.

“I think… I feel like he’s somewhere to the west of us,” Hancock said.

“Toward Diamond City?” MacCready asked.

“Maybe.” He considered for a moment. “Probably.” He dug into his pockets to see what he had in his stash, hoping for something that would either relieve the pain or help him ignore it. He couldn’t just go back to Goodneighbor, knowing that the synth was so close by. He had to investigate.

 _Mentats… Jet… Med-X… hmmm, maybe_. Might make him apathetic though. His fingers brushed against a larger bottle and he pulled it out to check the label. _Buffout. That… might actually work._

MacCready watched, concerned, as Hancock unscrewed the lid, pulled out a capsule, and dry-swallowed it. “You sure that’s a great idea, boss?”

Hancock glared at him, feeling the chem starting to work. “You got a better idea, kid?” The pain didn’t fully dissipate, but as he had hoped, it became less troubling. He blinked a couple times and then turned westward. Without waiting for MacCready, he started jogging down Boylston toward the Fens, quickly picking up speed. The chem’s effect wouldn’t last for long, but there were a few more in the bottle. Hopefully he’d reach the son of a bitch before then.

  
  
  


 

Hancock dashed through the intersection of Boylston and Park Drive without slowing down. “Hancock, stop!” MacCready yelled. The concern in his voice broke through Hancock’s single-minded focus on tracking down the source of his misery. He slowed and then stopped, stuttering a few steps before catching his balance. Irritated, he turned to MacCready.

“What the hell, MacCready?” It had taken him about ten minutes and two Buffout capsules to get here, and he was deeply aware of his quickly dwindling supply. “We’re almost there!”

MacCready was nearly breathless from trying to keep up. “We’re almost in Diamond City territory,” he gasped. “We go dashing through here and one of these guards is going to shoot you without even thinking about it.” The young sniper bent over to catch his breath, pulling his cap off his head and wiping a sleeve across his sweaty forehead. “Fu– shoot, that stuff makes you fast.”

Hancock had to acknowledge that the kid had a good point. He concentrated, trying to tune in to the signal that Kellogg was giving off. He needed to know—did the Institute mercenary know that he was giving off the signal? Did he know that Hancock could track him? If so… they could be running right into a trap. It bothered him immensely that he had not considered that question until that moment.

He gazed up at the protective walls, soaring above him. “You think he’s actually in the city?” he asked.

“Seems like a risky move,” MacCready said. “He has to know that people are on the lookout by now. Where would he go?”

“Maybe back into the house he owned," Hancock replied. "If he could somehow sneak in.…”

MacCready shook his head. “Too risky. Nick is just too recognizable. I don’t think he’d take the chance. I think he’s gotta be in one of these buildings nearby.” He paused. “Hancock, we gotta go back. We need other people for this.”

“No, we don’t!” Hancock insisted, frustrated. “Erica took him out all on her own with a fucking 10mm! She blew his face clean off! Your rifle, my shotgun? The two of us can take him, easy! We took down a motherfucking _behemoth_ , goddammit!”

“She caught him off guard, Hancock! He completely underestimated her, and from what you’ve said, it sounds like she was temporarily insane to boot. He’s not going to let us get the drop on him again.”

The Buffout was wearing off, and the searing pain was returning. Hancock clenched his head and groaned.

“You’re in no shape for this,” MacCready said, not unkindly. “You can’t take on a psychopath when you gotta pop a pill every few minutes just to function. Let’s go back to Goodneighbor, reconvene with Fahrenheit, and figure out our next move.”

“ _He_ could move,” Hancock muttered through the pain in his head.

“Yeah, he could," MacCready said. "Or he could have found a convenient hidey hole and isn’t budging. We’re gonna have to take that chance.”

Hancock couldn’t deny that the kid made sense, but the intense frustration was consuming him. To be so close to the bastard and forced to stop because of a fucking _headache_ was damn near unbearable.

He fished the last Buffout from the bottle, popping the capsule, and throwing the empty bottle away from them. The glass shattered and shards skittered across the pavement. The pain in his head diminished slightly, and he started trudging eastward toward Goodneighbor, following the path of the crumbling turnpike above them.

“Hey, Hancock,” MacCready said, nudging him.

He looked wearily at the mercenary, feeling as though he could sleep for a week.

“Look at this.” The sniper pointed at a prewar construction site, scaffolding surrounding a sewer entrance. An open bottle of beer and a half-smoked cigar sat next to the slightly ajar manhole cover. Hancock bent down and took a close look at the label on the cigar.

It was a San Francisco Sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love taking MacCready to the library just to hear him say that. The first time I heard it, I nearly fell off the couch laughing.


	8. Chapter 8

Fahrenheit pounded her fist on the table, nearly hard enough to make it splinter. “Dammit, Dad! It’s an obvious trap. We can’t just go in there guns blazing. Far as I’m concerned, _you_ can’t go in there at all. From what MacCready’s saying, you’re basically incapacitated every time he’s near you.”

Elena Amari nodded. “Mayor, if the pain you are describing was anything at all like what you experienced down in my office, I believe it could be dangerous to you.”

Hancock looked around the table in frustration at the concerned faces gazing back at him. The Third Rail had been hastily emptied of patrons and temporarily converted into a kind of war room, filled with everyone in Goodneighor he trusted most. Fahrenheit, MacCready, Dr. Amari, Daisy, and Ham, along with Rocco and Alby, a couple long-term members of the Watch, were all there, ostensibly to strategize a plan of attack on Kellogg. Somehow, the tables had turned, and Hancock felt like he was the one under attack.

He had been ready to jump down into the sewers immediately upon finding the cigar, and MacCready had barely been able to talk him down. Only the realization that he was out of Buffout and the intensity of the pain had driven him back to Goodneighbor to figure out a plan. He’d invited Elena to the committee, figuring that she could perhaps come up with a work-around for the pain in his head that would allow him to participate in the assault, but it wasn’t looking good.

He gripped his head, his fingers sliding over the scarred furrows of his scalp. He loved everyone here, trusted them with his life, but right now he felt like he could happily annihilate the lot of them before leaping into the sewers to what would be his own likely death. He hadn’t felt this particular combination of helplessness and loneliness in a long time, and he didn’t think he’d be able to handle it for much longer.

It didn’t help that without his signature coat and ruffled shirt, he just didn’t feel like himself. He didn’t know whether the clothes actually made the man, but there was no question that much of his own political power and influence came from the original John Hancock’s coat and the antique tricorn hat. The hat was currently on the table, close at hand, and Daisy had promised to take a look at the coat and shirt and do her best to repair them, but the considerable damage to those two articles of clothing was a harsh reminder that they wouldn’t last forever—he wouldn’t always be able to rely on the power of the coat for respect, and if he couldn’t earn respect on his own, without the coat and hat, did he ever really have it in the first place? It was a dangerous and disturbing line of thinking, and one he didn’t care to further entertain at the moment.

Sitting at the table in a once-white t-shirt and tattered jeans, he felt his influence and authority being challenged and he didn’t feel confident enough to defend himself. He ran his right hand up his left arm, feeling the strangely smooth skin from the healing burn. He didn’t know what to make of the transformation. He’d gone from smoothness to rough scars to smoothness again. He felt like there must be a metaphor in there somewhere, but he was afraid of it and didn’t want to explore that thought either. Was there a safe idea right now? Probably not. What a total clusterfuck.

“Mayor,” Dr. Amari said, “You’re rubbing your arm again. Is the burn hurting you? It looks like the stimpak healed the skin fairly well, but perhaps there could be some internal damage.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He sighed and turned to Fahrenheit. “So what do you propose? I just let him live under the city, occasionally popping out to terrorize a settlement? And what about Nick? That would be the same thing as letting him die, and I rather like the guy.”

Fahr’s face softened. “No, of course not," she said. "Nobody is proposing just letting him go. Don’t be so damn hyperbolic. But he clearly figured out you can track him. He’s trying to bait you into going down there.”

“That’s something I don’t get,” MacCready said. “How does he know? Everything happened so fast… how could he know that you guys have some kinda weird connection?”

“Maybe he feels it too,” Hancock said. “It apparently doesn’t incapacitate him like it does me, but maybe he can tell when I’m close.” There was another option, one he didn’t want to say out loud, but he had to at least acknowledge it to himself. If Kellogg didn’t have his own connection, it meant that someone had to be feeding him information… and that would mean someone Hancock trusted had betrayed him. All he could do was hope that a connection between them was the answer, despite how horrible that option looked on the surface.

Heads nodded around the table. He looked closely at everyone, making eye contact, watching for anyone who turned away or wouldn’t fully acknowledge him. Nobody stood out in this moment, but he might have to test some loyalties. He just didn’t know where to start.

Ham spoke up. “Why don’t we just take an army then? The Mayor can stay here, and the whole lot of us can go down there and take out the fucker.” He paused. “Minus Daisy, of course.” Both Rocco and Alby murmured their agreement.

Daisy glared at Ham as only Daisy could. “What the hell do you mean, ‘minus Daisy’? You act like I ain’t got skin in this game.”

Ham looked abashed. “Pardon, ma’am. I just never thought of you as a fighter.”

Daisy's dark eyes narrowed. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Hamilton.” It was impossible to miss the threat in her voice.

Ham cleared his throat. “Okay, well then, what about the army then? _With_ Daisy,” he added, tilting his head toward the woman.

“Nope,” MacCready said. “Not with that guy expecting us. Plus, we have to take him alive.”

Hancock nodded. “If we go in shooting, Nick’ll get killed. I can’t risk that. I want to get Kellogg out of his head, take care of the problem that way.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“So what we need to do is drive him out somehow,” Fahrenheit said. “Or wait for him to get bored.”

Elena spoke up. “We can’t even acknowledge his setup. Let him think his bait failed. He’ll out himself sooner or later. I think it will be sooner. In the meantime, I can work with John and try to solve the headache issue. The headaches might be a good way of identifying when Kellogg is close, but it would be foolish to rely on them. We need the Mayor in fighting shape, and Buffout isn’t a long-term solution.”

“And the rest of the town needs to know that Hancock’s back to business,” Fahr commented. Hancock looked at her sharply. She caught his eye and nodded subtly. MacCready’s eyes cut to the right, toward Fahr, and Hancock realized that the sniper’s trained eye had caught the almost imperceptible movement.

“I still don’t like it,” Hancock said. “I think it’s risky. It puts people in the ‘Wealth in danger.”

“They’ve all been alerted, John,” Daisy said. “It’s a risky world out there anyway, and everyone knows it. Really, what’s one more monster in the wasteland? If he attacks a settlement, we’ll hear about it straight away. Oh—and we heard from Preston up in Sanctuary while you were out, by the way. He and that Sturges fellow managed to build a radio that can send out messages and they got in touch with Kent. Preston’s been busy and has started to have some success in recruiting. He’s talking about starting to send out some patrols. He’s even talking about trying to retake the Castle down on the coast.”

Hancock started. _Preston was having success?_ Maybe he’d written the man off too soon. He came to a decision.

“Daisy, tell Kent to send a message to Preston, see if he’ll come to Goodneighbor. If the Minutemen are really and truly rebuilding, it might be a good idea to be on friendly terms with that bunch of boy scouts.”

MacCready scoffed. “The Minutemen? Come on.”

Hancock glared at him. “You’re pretty new to the Commonwealth. Used to be that the Minutemen did a halfway decent job of keeping some semblance of order before they turned on each other and fell apart. If there’s a possibility of getting that back and working together with them, I’m all for it.”

“Ain’t the Minutemen some kinda paramilitary organization?” asked Rocco, who had been silent up to this point. “We don’t need that crap taking over the Commonwealth. No better than the fuckin’ Brotherhood.”

“I know Preston,” Hancock said. “He ain’t like that. That cowboy ain’t got a mean bone in his body, and more importantly, he ain’t got a prejudice against ghouls. I ain’t keen on any organization having a bunch of power, you all know where I stand on that, but I think forming an alliance with the Minutemen now, before they get too big for their britches, could do a lot of good. We can influence their direction while they’re growing, keep things a bit more democratic in nature, you feel me? The Brotherhood are here and ready to take over, but the Minutemen could pose a legitimate challenge to them, give people a better option to rally behind.” _And maybe the Minutemen could give Erica a better option for taking on the Institute_.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Kent and extend the invite,” Fahr said. “Any other items of business right now or can we adjourn, turn this place back into a shithole bar, and get fucking wasted?”

“All in favor of shutting it down and getting fucking wasted?” Hancock asked, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Aye!” The shouts echoed throughout the former subway station.

“Let’s do it. Shots are on me, folks.”


	9. Chapter 9

The wind whistled through the buildings, kicking up piles of dead leaves and rubbish as Hancock exited the Third Rail, humming a Nat King Cole song. Night had fallen and the stars twinkled overhead. He was pleasantly drunk and feeling better about things than he had since he’d woken up to find Erica gone. 

He’d been downright mayoral tonight, decisive and firm, and he hoped the others had bought into it and would spread the word throughout Goodneighbor that their take-no-bullshit mayor was back. The rest of the little committee had opted to remain at the Rail and continue the party, but he had a list of tasks for the next day running through his head and thought it might be nice to get to bed before midnight. 

“Flash, bam, ali cazam,” he crooned under his breath, his raspy but tuneful voice melding nicely with the old melody. “I got a look at you.” He nodded at Ralph of the Neighborhood Watch, who was guarding the lower level of the State House as he slipped past and headed up the spiral staircase. 

He nodded again at the other guard stationed outside his office on the second level, barely registering the man’s face. All he could think about was getting in, getting those damn off-brand clothes off his body, and then having a nice, long piss before turning in for the night. Ready for bed before midnight? Worried about his bladder? _Must be getting old_ , he chuckled to himself. 

As he let the door swing shut behind him, something registered as off. He realized that he had missed the click of the door latching. As he turned to look, a thought flew through his brain, barely registering above a subconscious level: _Exactly how much hearing loss had that explosion caused, anyway?_

Before he could even fully comprehend the thought, a fist connected with his eye socket and he saw stars, bright and looping, incomparable with the ones he’d appreciated upon leaving the Third Rail. 

He staggered backward, reaching for his knife, remembering too late that he wasn’t wearing his coat. Before he could correct himself, his ass hit the edge of his desk, and he was knocked completely off balance. It seemed like the damage to his ear was affecting a lot more than his hearing, and his stomach slowly rolled in fear. 

His skinny butt hit the floor hard, and the wind whooshed out of his lungs, leaving him coughing and sputtering. He threw his arm up in front of him to ward off the attacker as he attempted to catch his breath. Blinking, he tried to clear his vision enough to see who it was, but the light from the staircase was behind him and all he could see was a dark silhouette. 

Ralph’s voice drifted up the staircase. “Everything okay up there, Mayor?”

Panic swirled. He couldn’t afford for the Neighborhood Watch to think he couldn’t handle himself. 

“I’m… fine,” he wheezed out between coughs. “Just… banged into… my desk. Landed on my ass. Musta drunk more… than I thought.” 

He heard Ralph’s laughter. _What a shitty guard_ , he thought, crazily. _I’m firing that moron in the morning._  

In the meantime, though, the attacker had paused to light the lamp on Hancock’s desk. Whatever was on this person’s mind, it didn’t appear to be murder, which was a bit of a relief. As the oil lamp flared, the man pulled off the bandana and fedora he’d been wearing and slid a pair of mirrored sunglasses on his nose, revealing a familiar face. 

“What the fuck, asshole?” Hancock rasped, irritated. “Was punching me really necessary?”

Deacon’s expression was grim, the smile that usually danced around the corners of his mouth gone. “What the fuck is right. We trusted both you and her. You want to tell me why she’s now traipsing across the wasteland with the goddamn Brotherhood of Steel?”

Hancock sighed. “You heard about that, huh?”

“Fuck you. You know I’ve been keeping an eye out. I followed her when she left with the merc. She headed straight back to that goddamn police station. Later that day, she’s stomping around the courtyard in power armor. This morning, a vertibird took off from the roof of the police station and headed south. She, the scribe, and that Paladin asshole were all on it.”

Hancock felt all the spit in his mouth dry up. She was there, then, right now. The Glowing Sea. He swallowed. “This wasn’t my idea, you know,” he started. 

“So she played you for a sucker too? Glory thought you must be in on it, but I had my doubts. I saw the way those bastards treated you. I couldn’t imagine what could cause you to work with them. But she’s one helluva actor, apparently. We totally thought she was head over heels for you.”

“That ain’t the way it is,” Hancock insisted. His ass ached and his vision was still blurry. Of course it was his left eye. That whole side was quickly becoming useless. “Look, let me get up. I gotta take a leak and then we’ll talk, but I ain’t doing it sitting here on the ground.”

Deacon took a step back and gestured at him with an impatient motion. “Hurry up, then,” he said, practically snarling. 

  
  
  


 

Hancock returned from the alcove that had been converted into a toilet. For a moment, as he reached for the doorknob, he wondered if he should just split, let Deacon deal with his own shit. He’d spent too much time trying to deal with his own doubts and fears; did he really want to rehash it again with this asshole? 

No, running away wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, he had a plan, didn’t he? 

He heaved a sigh and opened the door. Deacon was sitting at his desk, reading the letter from Erica. 

“Goddammit, that’s private!” Hancock growled. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Deacon waved the page at him. “So you really didn’t know, huh?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.” He poked gingerly at his eye, which was still sore. Ghouls didn’t bruise very easily, but he thought he might still have a shiner the next morning. At least his vision seemed to be recovering. 

“What’s this about the Glowing Sea?” Deacon asked. “Why would she mention that hellhole?”

“We were able to get a whole bunch of information outta that chunk of Kellogg’s brain. Part of it is that there’s an Institute scientist hiding out there who might be able to help us get in. They’re using teleportation, apparently.”

Deacon nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “That makes sense.”

“I don’t know if you all have been listening to the radio, but that intel cost us big,” Hancock said with a grimace. He explained the whole procedure to Deacon along with the aftermath. 

“You wired that piece of brain to a synth’s head?” Deacon said in disbelief. “Well, I’m not telling Des that. She’d lose her shit and probably order me to kill you.”

“I ain’t thrilled about how this all turned out,” Hancock replied. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his nightstand, lit one in the lamp, and then replaced the pack without offering it to Deacon. “He appears to be hiding in the sewers by Diamond City, and we’re pretty sure he knows that I can sense him.” 

“Yeah, what’s all that shit about, anyway?” Deacon asked, eyebrows raised. 

“Hell if I know.” Hancock took a drag, relishing the nicotine and smoke in his lungs. “Amari thinks I’m some kind of psyker. We can’t figure out why there seems to be this direct link between me and Kellogg though. Nobody seems to know enough actual psykers to know if that’s a common thing or what. Anyway, we’re going to let him come to us. We don’t want to damage Nick, and if we go in there shooting, there’s a good chance someone will get overly excited and do damage that can’t be repaired. In the meantime, Kent’s gonna radio Preston Garvey over in Sanctuary, and we’re going to try to make some kinda deal with the Minutemen.”

“The Minutemen…” Deacon said, thoughtfully. “I didn’t realize they were a thing again.” 

“I’ve met Preston, and he’s determined if nothing else. He’s been busting his ass to bring the band back together, and it appears to be working. If she can get what she needs from this Virgil guy, maybe she’ll dump the Brotherhood if we can offer her something better. And if she’s working with the Minutemen.…”

Deacon nodded. “Yeah. They’ll be willing to work with us, and Des will be willing to work with them. Someone out front to do the heavy lifting while we do the behind-the-scenes stuff.” He appraised Hancock for a moment. “Not too shabby.”

“I have my moments,” Hancock growled. 

Deacon grinned. “Can’t help thinking that arrangement might benefit you a bit as well. A lot more than her hanging around with the tin can, anyway.” 

“It might,” Hancock agreed. “I keep getting reminded that I ain’t much of an altruist.” 

“Hey, you can’t knock a win-win situation, right?”

Hancock snorted and then sighed. “Well, she’s gotta come back first.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Mayor, good to see you again.” 

“You too, Garvey.” Hancock reached out to shake the Minuteman’s hand. He was surprised to find that it wasn't just words; he really was glad to see the man. As annoying as his single-minded purpose had been, the guy had a way about him that made you want to help. Hancock mused that it was remarkable how much his attitude toward Preston had changed recently. He now found the man reliable and sharp, and he even had to admit that he respected him.

Ham’s initial excursion to Sanctuary had gone well; he’d made it there and back quickly, arriving to the settlement late the same night he'd left. You wouldn't know it from looking at the man in the dapper tux he usual wore, but his feet were fleet and his body was tough. He’d delivered the message about Nick and Kellogg, slept a few hours, and then hightailed it back to Goodneighbor. He reported back that Preston had listened carefully and then assigned Sturges to monitor the radio signal for updates. Thanks to Ham’s fast feet and Preston’s openness and willingness to listen, Kent had had no trouble getting the message to Sanctuary about a potential partnership. Sturges had quickly radioed back that Preston would leave the next morning, much to Hancock’s relief. 

Prior to arriving, Preston had radioed ahead to let Hancock know he was bringing a small group with him, two men and a woman. Hancock appreciated the thoughtfulness since it gave him the time for him to make arrangements at the Rexford for the next couple of nights while they attempted to strike some kind of deal. Claire had initially bitched about Minutemen taking up space in her precious hotel, but finally shut up after Hancock had informed her that he was the one paying and he wasn't looking for any kind of discount. 

As Hancock led the small group through the streets of Goodneighbor, he was painfully aware of the Minutemen recruits looking around wide-eyed at the drifters, the Neighborhood Watch, and other assorted toughs. He trusted Preston to choose representatives who wouldn’t be averse to working with ghouls, but he couldn’t shake his nervousness and his sense that his town was being judged—and found wanting. 

After getting the small group set up at the hotel and making arrangements to meet up with Preston down at the Rail that evening, he headed back to his office to try to think things through. 

The last few days had been quiet, and he wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or concerned. Preston and his group had arrived without a hitch, Kent had been in constant contact with multiple settlements, and Deacon had left town again, headed to God knows where. He'd hoped to convince the spy to stick around for the planning meeting, but he'd hightailed it right before Hancock's bruise could fully set.

Sitting at his desk, his mind wandered to Erica, wondering where she was now, if she’d managed to make contact with Virgil yet. Would she come back to Goodneighbor once she had the information on how to get into the Institute? Or would she keep working with the Brotherhood? He wondered if there was some way to get a coded message to her, to tell her that the Minutemen were here now, that she had more options. 

A rapping sound pulled him out of his thoughts. 

“Come in,” he called. The door creaked open and Daisy stepped in, carrying a couple of packages.

“You all set for tonight?” she asked. 

“Yeah, Fahr is having Charlie set up the VIP room. I don’t want to lose another night of drinking patrons. Goodneighbor needs the income.” He tapped his fingers on the wooden surface of his desk. “I might wall off the room, turn that into a more permanent location for these get-togethers since it seems like we might be having more and more strategy sessions.”

Daisy nodded. “That sounds like a good plan. By the way, I wanted to thank you again for the book, John. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Yeah, I did. I couldn’t have that debt hanging over my head.”

“I don’t think you even know what you found,” she said. She set one of the packages down on the desk. To his surprise, it was the book he’d brought back from his trip to the library. She flipped open to the title page. “It’s a first edition,” she said, with wonder in her voice. “This is worth far more than the copy that got lost.”

Hancock shrugged. “Well, it’s yours now. Consider it an upgrade,” he said with a crooked smile. 

Her fingers trailed over the letters on the page. “I'm going to treasure it, John. By the way, I hope you don't mind, but I pulled together a couple guys who weren’t doing anything productive and hired them to bring back as much from the library as they could carry.” 

“Of course I don't mind. That was the plan. You gonna use that empty warehouse?”

“I think so.” Daisy paused. “That was a wonderful idea you had. I think it’s going to be a real boon to the town.”

“And you don’t mind the extra work of running it?” Hancock replied, his hairless brows raised.

“I talked to Magnolia. She’s interested in helping out. I think between the two of us, we can manage.” She set the other package down in front of him. "Here's your coat and shirt, by the way. The patch job isn't as ideal as I would have liked, but it should be serviceable. Figured you would want it back before tonight's meeting."

"Thanks, Daisy, I appreciate it. I coulda probably put something together, but you're much handier with this stuff than I am." He opened the package and fingered the sleeve, checking out the patch job. Like she said, it wasn't perfect, but the coat had been salvaged and he and MacCready wouldn't be a matched set in coats with missing arms. The merc would have loved that far too much.

Daisy crossed the room, grabbed another chair, and pulled it over to the desk so she could sit down and face him. “Now that I’m done buttering you up, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.” 

Hancock groaned. 

“Oh hush," she said. "You need to hear this. Pour me a drink, will you?”

He got up and searched his cupboard. Restocking hadn’t been high on his list of priorities, and there wasn’t much to find other than a dusty bottle of the Bobrov brothers’ moonshine. He pulled the bottle out along with two glasses and set them on the desk between them. 

“That’s the best you can do, huh?” Daisy’s eyes narrowed, but her voice was filled with humor.

“I ain’t been doing much entertaining up here lately,” he said, pouring them each a couple fingers. “And I ain’t restocked since I attempted to kill off every remaining brain cell. You want the good stuff, go to the Rail.”

“Fine, fine.” She accepted the glass and took a small sip. “Well, that’s just as bad as I remembered,” she said, pulling a face.

“Cheers,” Hancock replied with a grin and clinked his glass against hers. “Now what’s the problem.”

“You need to have a plan…” Daisy began, unable to meet his eyes.

“Christ,” Hancock said, rubbing his face. “Now what?”

“John, what if Erica doesn’t come back? What if she finds a home with the Brotherhood?”

He sighed. “You too, huh?”

“I’m serious, John.” She took another sip and winced. “Shit, this stuff is disgusting. But listen, I know that’s what’s behind the library, and you said flat out that this is what’s driving this attempt to work with the Minutemen. Everything you do these days revolves around her coming back.”

“I’m just going by what she said in the letter, Daisy…” It was all he had to hang on to, and he was terrified of where this conversation was going.

“But you just don’t know for sure. I’m worried that you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt, and you’ve been hurt enough by life. The Brotherhood has a lot to offer her. They’re using technology she’s familiar with, they have a full force ready to take on the Institute today, and let’s be honest, their commanding officers tend to be a lot easier on the eyes than we are.”

Hancock set his glass down and glared across the desk at her. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know _exactly_ what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, John Hancock," she snapped. "Don’t play dumb.”

He stared at her, aghast. 

“John, you’re a ghoul and she’s a human. You know how they are. She hasn’t been unfrozen all that long, and she hasn’t met a lot of folks. You’re basically the first person who helped her, and sure, she got attached to you. That makes sense. But now she has more people helping her, and a lot of them look like her. They have noses, John. And hair. And eyes with irises and pupils. She’s surrounded by these people now, twenty-four seven. What happened between you and her happened quick. I don’t know if that kind of flame can last, not with the kind of pressure that’s on her.”

His mouth had gone dry and his hands shook. “Why are you saying this, Daisy? You’re supposed to be my friend.”

Daisy stared directly at him. “John, I _am_ your friend. I’m more than that. I’ve been watching over you since you were barely up to my hip. This woman… I’m worried about who you’re turning into around her, what you might be willing to give up or give away. You’ve worked too hard for the good things in your life, and I’m afraid of it all crashing down. And yeah, I’m speaking to you as your constituent too. I’ve backed you all the way, and you run the town where I’ve set up shop. I need you to be on your game, and everyone here in town needs it too. So I’m asking you again… what’s your plan if Erica doesn’t come back?”

He looked away from her. “I don’t have one, Daisy. Is that what you want to hear?”

“It’s about what I figured.” She swirled the remaining moonshine in her glass before sighing and standing up. “I ain’t drinking the rest of this swill,” she said, setting the glass down and picking the book back up. She scooted her chair back and rose to her feet. “But John, even if you don’t have a plan now, you need to think about it and make one. We need to know that you’ll keep leading us, and that may mean against Erica if she chooses to stay with them and they can’t leave well enough alone.”

“I’ll take it under consideration,” he said stiffly, his fingers tightly clutching his glass. He watched as she left and then drank the rest of his glass and what remained in hers, savoring the burn as the liquor slid down his esophagus. 


	11. Chapter 11

He stomped down the stairs to the Third Rail, annoyed and half drunk. He’d spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening drinking and contemplating what Daisy had said to him. What the hell was the woman thinking? She knew his insecurities, which buttons to push. She’d come up to his office and mashed all of them as if she was trying to launch the next nuclear attack. At least he would now be able to attend tonight’s meeting in his coat. He could let the red velvet do most of the work for him and damn his insecurities to hell.

Ham greeted him at the entrance to the bar and then followed him in. As Hancock had requested, the VIP room had been walled off from the rest of the bar to prevent curious constituents from wandering in. 

The interior of the room had been completely revamped, with a large table taking up most of the space. The couches remained pushed against the walls, but there was also now a bulletin board at the far end of the room, plastered with pre-war maps of the Boston area. Preston was standing in front of one of the maps, studying it, and carefully placing thumbtacks. The Minutemen sat at one end of the enormous table, talking seriously between themselves. MacCready was sprawled on one of the couches, cleaning his sniper rifle. Daisy sat on the opposite end of the table from the Minutemen, reading a book. She glanced up and nodded at him as he walked past, but he gritted his teeth and refused to acknowledge her. Ham took a seat between Daisy and Dr. Amari. Alby and Rocco were there too, on Daisy’s other side. There was a clear division between the residents of Goodneighbor and the Minutemen, and Hancock wasn’t particularly pleased by it.

Trying to shake it off, he sauntered over to the maps. “What are the thumbtacks for?” he asked. 

“Strategic points we’ll want to keep in mind,” Preston answered. “Some of them, here and here–” He pointed where he was indicating. “–are settlements. This one here is the airport, where the Brotherhood have settled in, and this one here is the Castle. I’m hoping we can retake it and turn it into our new base of operations. Sanctuary is nice, but it’s pretty removed from everything. Good deal for the settlers, they don’t get harassed as often since they’re so out of the way, but not a great strategic location for the Minutemen. I especially like the Castle offers great visibility of the goings on at the airport.”

“You keep mentioning retaking the Castle,” Hancock replied. “What’s there now?”

Preston shrugged. “Mirelurk infestation.” 

“That don’t sound too bad.”

“It shouldn’t be. There’s quite a few of them, but I think a few grenades and some potshots from the walls should take care of it. The four of us might be able to handle it.”

Hancock nodded. “Well, let me know and maybe I can send some folks with you. MacCready’s sniper skills might come in handy.” He turned to Ham. “Where the hell are Fahrenheit and Magnolia?”

“We’re right here,” a familiar voice said. He turned to see his freckled daughter and her raven-haired partner sidling past the partition. “And look who we found.”

A man with a bald head and familiar reflective sunglasses strutted into the room after the two women. 

“Nice of you to join us, asshole,” Hancock said by way of greeting. 

“You know how I can’t resist a party,” the spy claimed with a sideways smirk. “I heard this particular gathering might have an impact on several of the future decisions of my own group, so thought I’d hang around for it.” 

Hancock tried on a glare, but couldn’t successfully hold it. The truth was, he was glad that Deacon was there. The spy had assessed the situation correctly, and it would save them the trouble of sending a runner later to inform the Railroad as to what had been discussed. He clapped the spy companionably on his back as he passed by and took a seat. 

He looked around at the full gathered team of strategists who were chatting amiably with each other before he took his place next to Preston. So far so good. All his best people… plus the Minutemen. He felt more optimistic than he had in weeks.

“All right, let’s call this shit to order,” he announced, his raspy voice carrying throughout the room. Daisy marked her place in the book she was reading and pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil to take notes. MacCready quickly reassembled his rifle and set it aside. He leaned forward, hands folded between his lanky legs. The chatter quickly dropped away and all eyes were soon on him and Preston. 

“We ain’t got any kind of formal agenda, but there are a few things I want to make sure we cover tonight. First off, I want to make a better plan for dealing with Kellogg than ‘we’ll see what happens.’ Second, we need to figure out how we want to approach the Brotherhood of Steel. Third, I want to talk about the Institute. Fourth–”

“Fourth, I’m hoping some of you will volunteer to help us retake the Castle,” Preston cut in. Hancock looked at him in annoyance. Preston might run the Minutemen, but he would need to come to an understanding of who was king of  _ this _ particular castle. 

“Fine, we’ll discuss the Castle. If we have time,” Hancock added. 

“The Minutemen are always recruiting, by the way, so if anyone is interested, come talk to me after the meeting.” 

“You trying to poach my guys?” Hancock asked irritably. 

Preston’s eyes widened. “Oh no, Mayor, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.... Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Do you really think we’re going to make it through this full list?” Daisy asked, looking up from the notes she was frantically scribbling. Amari nodded, her face filled with concern.

“Maybe not,” Hancock conceded, “but let’s at least get the ball rolling, okay? We can meet again tomorrow if we need to.” He turned to Preston. “You guys ain’t in a big hurry, right?”

Preston shrugged. “I’m pretty flexible.” Hancock looked to the contingent of Minutemen in their long dusters and pinned cowboy hats. They were all nodding amiably. That was alright then. 

“Alright then, let’s dig in. So Kellogg.” He turned and studied the map for a moment. “He’s right outside Diamond City, hiding down in the sewer system. Pass me a thumbtack, wouldja Preston?” He placed the thumbtack slightly to the north of the ballpark. “The entrance to the sewers is right here, and he clearly wants us to know that. We ain’t any closer to getting an answer to my head pain and this damn connection between us… right, Elena?”

The doctor grimaced and shook her head. “Sorry, Mayor. I still can’t find any sort of explanation or solution.”

Magnolia tentatively raised her hand. “Sorry, sugar, but I had a thought. What if we plugged you into one of the memory loungers and then ran a simulation of Kellogg to see how you react?”

Dr. Amari turned to her. “Forgive me, but how would that help exactly?”

“We could rule out if it’s psycho… psychoso… what’s the word?”

“Psychosomatic,” MacCready offered. All eyes turned to look at the sniper and he blushed. “Sorry.”

The room was quiet for a moment, and Hancock felt his grasp on the situation slipping slightly. Did they… did they think that he was making this up somehow?

Amari considered the question. “It’s actually not a terrible idea,” she finally said. 

“I ain’t crazy!” Hancock said, defensively. 

“Of course not,” Amari said in a soothing tone. “But it could provide us with more information, and right now, we’re quite short on that.”

Hancock glared at everyone. “Let’s table that for now, Amari. You and I can discuss it later.”

“That’s fine,” the doctor answered calmly. 

“So we gonna try to smoke the bastard out?” Alby called out. “I mean literal smoke. Set some fires, drive him out.” 

“He’s in Nick Valentine’s body, so I doubt smoke would have much of an effect,” Daisy said. Alby grumbled but conceded the point. 

“I know you don’t like the ‘wait until he emerges’ option,” Fahrenheit said, “but I’m not sure that we have any other choice.” 

“Do we know if there are any other entrances to the sewers other than the one we found?” MacCready asked. Everyone looked at each other, unsure. 

“That’s a good question,” Hancock said, relieved, “and it gives us a point of action. Let’s form a committee to explore the area and look for additional entrances to the sewers. Once we establish any and all points of exit and entry, let’s set a schedule to keep watch on them 24/7. Valentine doesn’t need food or water, but you know Kellogg is going to get bored eventually. That way we don’t have to wait until he razes a settlement before we get some word on his movements. For all we know, he’s been creeping around Boston this whole time.” He looked around the room. “MacCready, can you head up that committee?” 

The merc’s thin chest puffed up. “You got it boss.” 

“Alright. Keep me posted on that and we’ll check in at the next meeting. The next thing is dealing with the Brotherhood.” 

The room erupted into murmurs again. He spotted Daisy gazing at him, unblinking. 

“Yeah, I know. I ain’t happy about it either, but we need to know what they’re planning…” 

At that moment, Sandra, one of the drifters who was essentially a permanent resident of Goodneighbor slipped past the partition. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Mayor,” the ghoul rasped. “Charlie said it was okay to come get you.”

“What’s going on, Sandra?” Hancock asked. He’d told Charlie that nobody was to come back into the VIP room unless it was a bona fide emergency. The fact that the robot had given Sandra the go-ahead was deeply concerning, to say the least.

“There’s a pair of Brotherhood of Steel soldiers at the front gate in full power armor. They insist on speaking with you.” 

“I guess we’re about to find out the Brotherhood plan,” Fahrenheit commented. Hancock glared at her briefly and then immediately turned and ran for the partition, hardly daring to hope.


	12. Chapter 12

Hancock approached the two soldiers with caution, his shotgun held tightly across his chest. The expressionless steel armor revealed nothing about the soldiers’ intentions. They did hold their laser weapons down and pointed at the ground, however, and they hadn’t started shooting up the small crowd congregating in the square, which was probably a good sign. 

The armor shone in the light of the strings of bulbs crisscrossing between buildings, and Hancock couldn’t help but notice the deep scoring slashed across one of the solder’s breastplate. Safe bet that a Deathclaw had caused that. It drove home the point that these suits of armor were essentially tanks, designed to turn a human being into a highly effective and well-defended killing machine; if the soldiers decided to draw weapons and attack, they could do a hell of a lot of damage, even as outnumbered as they were. 

Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw Fahrenheit and MacCready flanking him, and he knew that Daisy, Ham, and even Preston and his Minutemen were there at his back. This thought bolstered him, giving him the courage he needed to speak up. 

“What are you doing here?” he called out, his raspy voice carrying through the square. “Your help ain’t needed in Goodneighbor.” He heard murmuring in the affirmative all around him. “So why don’t you both get in your ‘bird and head your asses back to Daddy Elder in that flying bag of wind?”

The two soldiers turned and glanced at each other, and then the one with the scored chest spoke up. “We’ve been monitoring radio signals and understand you’re working together to deal with this Kellogg menace. We know he’s connected to the Institute. If you’re working with the Minutemen, we hope you’ll consider working with us too. We have a lot to offer you.” Thanks to the heavy voice modification from the armor’s helmet, Hancock could tell next to nothing about the speaker. 

He cursed. The fucking radio. They should have been more careful, used callsigns or codes or something. He couldn’t believe he’d failed to include that in his planning. “Who’s doing the monitoring?” Hancock asked. “This the work of your elder? He send you here to check out the freaks?”

“Elder Maxson doesn’t know we’re here,” the same soldier spoke. “We did the monitoring of our own accord and made our own decision to come.” 

Hancock snorted. “That sounds pretty damn close to insubordination. Ain’t your lot got a bunch of rules forbidding you from thinking for yourself?” 

A dry chuckle emanated from the speaker, but neither soldier replied.

Hancock turned to look at the small crowd behind him. Concerned faces met him. He noticed that Deacon had melted into the shadows, which was probably a wise choice. What if he  _ did _ let these soldiers in, invite them to the meeting? If they were careful, they could gather some intel about the Brotherhood’s intentions without giving away too much of their own. If he could get them out of their power armor, they’d outnumber the soldiers. And perhaps one of them knew some information about Erica….

He met Preston’s eyes and raised his hairless brows in a question—was it safe? Should he allow this? The other man appeared to understand and bent his head slightly in a subtle agreement. 

Hancock turned back to the solders. He swallowed drily and made up his mind. “Okay, you can come in. But that armor ain’t gonna fit in our meeting room, so you’ll need to step out of it. Think of it as a good faith measure.” 

The soldier with the scored chestplate nodded in acquiescence. The armor hissed and clanked as the seals released, the back of the armor opening and allowing its occupant to depart. The soldier carefully stepped down, holding on to the sides of the armor for balance, and then moved into the light. 

It was Erica. 

  
  
  
  
  


Hancock barely had time to recover from his shock before she darted across the square to where he was standing and launched herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He staggered back under the sudden weight of her, but his arms slid around her, nearly of their own accord, and he held her tightly against him, relishing the feel of her body against his, the familiarity and comfort of it. 

Her arms were around his neck, and she was peppering his face with kisses. He barely knew how to react—he’d been waiting for this moment for weeks now, except that she had returned in full power armor (that score across the chest!), accompanied by another soldier (who would certainly be getting an eyeful now… with any luck, it was that Rhys asshole), and apparently on Brotherhood business. This wasn’t at all how he’d anticipated their reunion in the dark nights when he couldn’t sleep and every cell seemed to cry out for her and he took himself in his hand and tried his best to imagine her return. 

But she was here now, and she was real, and she had knocked his hat to the ground and had kissed from one ear to the other along his jawline, along his eyebrows, down to his closed eyelids, and now her lips caught his and he pressed her to him tighter, opening his mouth to taste her, feel her tongue against his. Had he ever missed anyone more? For just a moment, Daisy’s face wavered into his consciousness, her warning, and he had a crazy thought that he should turn to her, his Sunshine wrapped around him like the flag he wore at his waist, and ask her to tell him, again, what exactly it was that she had been so worried about. 

Instead, he carefully released Erica, and her legs slid down until she was standing on her own again. One of her hands gently cupped his cheek. He broke the kiss and turned his head for a moment to nuzzle against her hand before kissing the palm and opening his eyes to look at her. 

It really was her, and it seemed too good to be real. He was terrified that this was some strange dream or hallucination he was having and he would wake up and she would be gone again. But he could feel her, solid, standing in his arms, and he could see her bright gray eyes gazing up into his dark ones, the corners crinkling. 

Her hair had been cut shorter, and dark tousled curls shot through with her distinctive silver surrounded her face, emphasizing her cheekbones. Her face looked lean, but not starved. Healthy. As he slid his hand along her shoulder and down her arm, he could feel muscle beneath the orange Brotherhood flight suit she was wearing. Otherwise, she was exactly as he remembered. He reached up to run his fingers along a curl, and it was soft, just as it had always been. 

“Sunshine…” He wasn’t sure what else to say. 

“I said I would come back,” she said softly, revealing her beautiful straight, white teeth in a smile. His heart leapt in his chest, and he thought he would die right here, just from the sheer joy of seeing that smile again. “Didn’t you believe me?” 

He leaned his head into the corner of her neck, his eyes, once again, burning with tears he could no longer shed. “I wanted to,” he said, his voice hoarser than usual. “It’s just….”

“What, love?” Her hands stroked his back, his neck, anywhere she could reach. 

“Nobody ever came back before.”

“Oh, my love,” she said, and pulled him in tightly once more. As far as he was concerned, everyone else had ceased to exist, and he was content for it to just be him and her, alone, together, the one thing he had barely dared to hope for since the moment he’d awoken to find her gone. 


	13. Chapter 13

He couldn’t help it; it was nearly impossible to keep his hands off of her. 

They had returned to the converted VIP room to continue the meeting. Drawing on every last reserve of gentlemanly behavior he had, he had pulled a chair out for her and now he stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders as if he had to continue reassuring himself that she was actually here and real. 

The other soldier in power armor had turned out to be the Scribe from the police station, Haylen, and she had surprised Hancock by smiling and embracing him as if he were an old friend. At first he just stood there, shocked, and then his arms came up and he cautiously patted her back. Thoroughly rattled, he had led the two women (and the rest of his strategy team) back to the Third Rail. Deacon had vanished entirely, but MacCready and Garvey had both clapped him on the shoulder companionably, and Daisy was beaming as though she had never suggested that Erica might betray all of them. The whole situation felt so completely surreal, he couldn’t help wondering if someone had slipped him some DayTripper. 

Preston called the meeting back to order and quickly brought Erica and Haylen up to speed on the plans to keep tabs on Kellogg, and then turned to Hancock, unsure how to proceed. 

Hancock cleared his throat. “Just before you both arrived, we were about to discuss how to deal with the Brotherhood and figure out their plans. Maybe you could fill us in?” he asked, worried that he was stepping too far and would damage this strange and fragile peace. 

Haylen and Erica looked at each, and he could easily read the concern on Erica’s face in the set of her mouth and the lines that formed between her eyebrows. 

“Well... “ Haylen started. She paused and looked at Erica, unsure how to proceed. 

“Go ahead,” Erica encouraged. “It’s safe here.” 

Haylen nodded. “We’re kind of AWOL,” she said, “but the Brotherhood doesn’t know it yet.”

Murmurs rumbled around the room. 

“What do you mean?” Preston asked. 

Erica chewed at her lip for a second. She spoke directly to Hancock. “You know how my plan was to get to the Glowing Sea and find that scientist, right?”

Hancock nodded, his heart starting to race. “Did you find him?”

“Yes, but… hang on, I’ll get to that. So Danse was willing to go and radioed the Prydwen, that’s the big airship, for a vertibird. When the Elder found out where we were headed, he asked us to recon another location in the Sea. Since I’d asked for such a huge favor, I agreed to help. It seemed like a pretty easy job, at any rate, just do a quick sweep and secure the place.” 

“You see,” Haylen spoke up, “the Brotherhood has been trying to get Liberty Prime up and running again…” 

“Whoa, hold up!” MacCready suddenly sat upright. “That big robot? From the Capital Wasteland? It’s here?”

Haylen turned in her chair, arm cocked over the back, and studied MacCready for a moment. “You know about that?” 

“Yeah, I grew up in the D.C. area. You could even say I was kind of… involved… in that whole business with the water and the Enclave.” 

Haylen’s eyebrows drew together. “How could you be?” she asked. “It was more than ten years ago. You would have been just a kid.” 

“Yup,” MacCready said, beaming and displaying damaged teeth. “Thirteen years old and the mayor of Little Lamplight. Me and the Wanderer? We were good friends.” 

“I think you might be embellishing your role just a bit there, Mac,” Hancock said. 

MacCready’s face reddened. “Not really. She rescued a bunch of kids who got captured by slavers. For a while, she would stop back by with supplies for us. Then I helped her get into the Vault behind our cave. That’s where she found the G.E.C.K. and everything happened really fast after that, including the whole thing with that robot.” He was quiet for a moment and looked up at the ceiling. Hancock could see the tears standing in his eyes. “It sucked what happened to her,” MacCready continued, so quietly Hancock could barely hear him. “I… I really admired her.”  _ Kid had a crush _ , Hancock thought to himself.

Haylen nodded seriously. “I remember all of that, too. I was a little older, but still pretty much a kid myself, living at Rivet City with my folks. I mean, if you get right down to it, the Wanderer was just a kid, too. Not even nineteen when it all went down.”

MacCready roughly wiped away the tears that had escaped down his cheeks. “A lot has happened in ten years, huh?” he asked. Haylen smiled in response. “And now you all are trying to fire up that robot again. Why?”

“Why else?” Haylen asked. “To take on the Institute.” 

“Do you know where it is?” Preston asked. 

“Somewhere under the ruins of C.I.T. The plan was to have Liberty Prime just blast through the ground until we could come in through the damn ceiling. Anyway, we’re getting sidetracked. It’s nowhere near ready.”

Hancock nodded and turned back to Erica. “So you made it to the Glowing Sea…” 

“Yes,” Erica said. “Danse came with me. Haylen and a few other Scribes set up at Waypoint Echo just outside to get things ready for us since we weren’t entirely sure what we would find. Instruments get really wacky around there, so it wasn’t safe to just fly in. Rhys stayed back at the station.” 

“And boy, did that wind up being for the best,” Haylen commented. 

Erica’s lips thinned. “Isn’t that the truth,” she replied. “We suited up and stomped right in. John, that place…” She shuddered. He sat in the chair next to her and took her hand. “It was horrible. Just… out of a nightmare. The animals… were mutated beyond belief. And huge. We…” She swallowed. He studied her face, wondering if he should ask her to stop or let her finish. He thought it might be best if she got it out. “We found a church,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was… filled with feral ghouls. I can’t stop thinking about it… all those people... gathered there when the bombs fell… doomed. I can’t help wondering… if any of them were people I knew ...” She choked and put a hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as tears slid down her cheeks. 

“Sunshine…” he murmured. 

“I’m sorry…” 

He squeezed her hand. “No, don’t be sorry.” 

She sniffed and scrubbed a hand across her face. “The visibility was just awful. Everything was greenish haze. You could hardly see ten feet in front of you. We knew where we had to go for the other mission, but Danse was adamant that we find the scientist first. I didn’t understand why, but now…” 

Hancock looked up, concerned, and met Haylen’s eyes. Her mouth was drawn as tight as Erica’s, and her eyes were filled with fear. What the fuck had happened out there? Where was that big, dumb tin can, anyway? Haylen had been in complete support of both him and the Brotherhood when they’d been back at the police station… what had changed? He had so many questions, but he thought it would be best to let Erica tell the story in her own way. 

“You said you found the scientist,” he prompted. 

She nodded. “Yeah, we ran into this… cult. They worshipped the bomb… it was the craziest thing.” 

“The Cult of Atom?” MacCready asked. “I remember those nutjobs from Megaton back in D.C. It’s not so much the bomb they worship though, as the radiation that comes out of the bomb.” 

“They’re fucking whack-jobs either way,” Hancock said. 

“Well, whatever,” Erica said. “They had set up this… town… right over a big pool that was so irradiated it glowed. The Geiger counter in the power armor was clacking away the whole time we were in the Sea, I constantly felt like I was going to puke, I went through what felt like a case of Rad-X, and somehow these crazies were just out there, hanging out in their rags and taking baths in the pool. Some of them were obviously affected—they had sores and their hair was falling out, but others looked… fine. I couldn’t figure it out.”

Fahrenheit spoke up for the first time since they’d returned to the room. “Apparently some of them have some kind of natural immunity to the radiation. They call it ‘Atom’s Gift’ or something.” 

“The human body is remarkably resilient,” Dr. Amari commented. “We’ve evolved as a species in the last two hundred years. Most of us have some level of immunity now. I believe that’s why Erica has such trouble with some of the food. She doesn’t have that level of immunity that we have from two centuries of natural selection. It makes sense that there are now people who have adapted to radiation. Perhaps in several thousand years the human race as a whole will be immune to radiation.”

“Anyway, the leader of them told us where we could find the scientist,” Erica continued. “Apparently he comes out to trade with them sometimes. So, we found him. But not before we found our first Deathclaw. Jesus H. Christ.” 

Hancock nodded. “I saw the gash across the breastplate on the power armor.”

“Yup, at one point he had me… and he shook me…” 

“Oh, fuck,” Hancock said and suddenly felt so dizzy he had to put his head down.

“Danse saved my life,” Erica said quietly. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. I want you to remember that when I tell you about the rest, okay?” 

Hancock nodded and reached out blindly for her again. She caught his hand in hers and entwined their fingers together. 

“So we found the scientist. He… this is insane but… he had turned himself into a Super Mutant. That’s how he was living out in the Glowing Sea. He can help us. He  _ wants _ to help us. But to get into the Institute? We need a courser chip.” 

Hancock suddenly sat up. “A courser chip? You’re right—that is insane!”

“We’ll talk about that later. I think it’s doable. I’ll need help, of course, but… anyway, that’s for later.”

“Why not just let the Brotherhood blast their way in with the robot?” Rocco asked. “If that’s their plan anyway.”

“Because Liberty Prime is armed with nukes,” Haylen answered. “We can’t take that risk. Not when Erica’s son is in there somewhere.” Rocco nodded, looking chagrined. 

Erica continued. “We left the scientist and headed to the target location for Danse’s mission. It turned out to be a huge military complex filled with missiles. Our job was to secure it so the Brotherhood could send a team in to collect the missiles. I never knew it even existed. But I’m guessing that was the actual target of the bombing that day, why Boston dodged a direct hit.”

Heads nodded around the table. 

“It was an easy enough mission, actually. We had to clear out some ferals, but after the Deathclaw, that seemed like cake.” She turned to Hancock, the ghost of a smile on her face. “Those power armor suits are really something,” she said. “I felt damn near invincible. Anyway, we secured the location. Danse told me to return to Echo, that he would stay and wait for the recon team to turn up. So I left and headed north. It wasn’t far to get back to the Waypoint, maybe an hour’s walk, and then Haylen and I boarded a vertibird, planning to go back to the station.” 

“But instead of going to the station as we had requested, the pilot took us back to the Prydwen,” Haylen said. 

“We were told that we would have a meeting with the Elder. The only good part about that was that I got a hot shower and this haircut…” She reached up to touch her new, shorter cut. “They wanted to make me presentable,” she said with a slight chuckle. 

“What did the Elder want, Erica?” Preston asked. The worry and fear in the Minuteman’s face was reflected on the rest of the faces around the table. 

Erica and Haylen looked at each other. 

“This… this is actually why we’re AWOL,” Erica said. “He gave me orders… to kill Danse.” 

The table erupted in shouts, and several people jumped to their feet. Hancock pounded on the table, trying to restore order. 

When everyone had quieted somewhat, he turned back to Erica. “Why? What the fuck happened out there? That guy bled Brotherhood!”

Haylen was the one who answered him, tears standing in her eyes. “It turns out that Danse is a synth,” she said sadly. “So Elder Maxson says he should die.” 

Silence fell. “Holy shit,” someone muttered. 

“I had to get off that airship,” Erica said, “so I agreed.” 

“What?” Preston cried. 

Erica turned to him. “Haylen had the same reaction. She cornered me—I thought she was going to tear me a new one.” 

“I was,” Haylen said with a slight smile. “But of course Erica was never going to do that. She just told the Elder she would so he’d let her go.”

“So I’m under marching orders to find and kill Danse. I don’t know how long I have until they realize that I have no intention of following those bullshit orders. Maxson can take that nonsense and shove it up his ass.” She looked at Hancock. “I know how you feel about Danse, believe me. In a lot of ways, I agree. But I can’t just kill the guy, even though I know this could really make a mess of things with the Brotherhood.” 

He brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. “Of course you couldn’t,” he said. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Looking around the table, he noticed eyes drooping and a few yawns. He had no idea what time it was, but it was clear that the meeting needed to end. 

“Alright. MacCready, you have your orders. Let’s call it and reconvene in three days time. In the meantime, everyone get some rest. Preston, you and me can discuss this whole Castle thing between ourselves tomorrow. Meeting adjourned.” 

Chair legs scraped against the concrete floor as everyone rose to their feet. MacCready stretched his tall form out on the couch where he’d been sitting and pulled his cap down to cover his eyes. The woman with the Minutemen offered to share her hotel room with Haylen, who nodded and smiled. Slowly, they all left the room. 

Hancock turned to Erica, who was looking at him drowsily. “There’s more, ain’t there?”

“Yes, a lot more,” she said. “But let’s talk in private.” She yawned and leaned into him. “Time for bed?”

“Hell yes,” he said, with a smile. 


	14. Chapter 14

They emerged onto the street, hands entwined. A light rain was falling, and the lights strung between the buildings reflected on the wet cobblestones. Erica leaned into him, and he could see how tired she was in her drooping eyelids and the slow way she moved. They walked slowly to the entrance of the State House, but before he opened the door, the two sets of Power Armor near KL-E-0’s shop caught his eye. 

“Hey, Sunshine, why don’t you wait here? I’m gonna have KL-E-0 secure those in her shop. Don’t need some jackass taking them for a joyride.” 

She smiled and let go of his hand long enough for him to walk over and make arrangements with the assaultron shopkeeper. As he returned, he suddenly had a realization. 

“Erica, where’s Dogmeat?” he asked. 

Her face fell. “Back at the station. It wouldn’t have been safe for him to come to the Glowing Sea, and we had always intended to go back. Who could have predicted that Danse was a synth?” She sighed. “But now he’s still there, with Rhys, and it’s not safe for me to go back.”

“Aw, damn,” he said, reaching for her hand again. “Well, what’s one more rescue mission?” She chuckled. “Maybe we can send Preston for him.”

She nodded and squeezed his fingers gratefully. “It’s so good to be home.” 

  
  
  
  


_ Home. _ It was good to be home. Home wasn’t two hundred years ago, it wasn’t the house in Sanctuary. She said  _ this _ was home. Goodneighbor. The State House.  _ Him. _

_ Home.  _

  
  
  
  


He didn’t even want to think about how late it must be. As much as he wanted to take advantage of the quiet and explore every inch of her, he could barely keep his eyes open, and from the look of things, she was feeling the same way. They slowly undressed, watching each other pull items of clothing off with small matching smiles. He stretched out, naked, and she rolled into him, and they lay, face to face, fingers lightly caressing cheekbones, eyebrows, the curves of ears. They gazed into each others’ eyes, and in the dim light from the single lantern they had left lit, her eyes were nearly as dark as his. 

He could lay here, just like this, forever, and with that thought, he drifted off into sleep, just as her breathing evened out and her eyes closed. 

_ Home.  _

  
  
  


He woke some time later to a small movement beside him. For a moment, he was deeply afraid, and he wasn’t sure why. Reaching out, his fingers found Erica’s hair and he remembered again that she had come back, that she was here with him now, and a warm feeling started in his chest and spread throughout his body, into his legs and arms, into his fingers. 

The lantern had gone out, and the room was pitch dark. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep or how close morning was. His fingers slipped away from the lock of hair and caressed Erica’s face, and he was startled when they touched wetness. 

“Sunshine…” he murmured in a quiet rasp that was almost a growl.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He pulled her more fully into his arms, revelling in the joy of her body pressed against his, and her arms slipped around him, fingers tracing the scarring of his back. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why are you awake?”

“It started out as a bad dream, and then… I just started thinking. About everything. About how every time I think I’m finally getting somewhere, there’s always something else standing in the way of answers. It’s this constant game of one step forward, two steps back.” She swallowed and then continued. “As long as I’m not thinking too hard, it’s not so bad. Sometimes I think that this world is better than the one I lost, especially because you’re in it, but then I think that means I’m okay with most of the world dying just so I can find a little happiness, and I must be the worst person who ever lived.”

“Oh, Sunshine,” he said, his knuckles gently brushing the side of her face. “No. You’re just making the best of a situation you never asked for.”

“A situation I never tried to stop,” she said, her voice cracking. “Haylen told me so much, filled in a lot of the gaps… right before the bombs dropped… there was so much crazy shit going on. It’s… horrible… and I had my head in the sand. I knew it was bad, but I didn’t want to deal with how bad it really was. I just wanted to take care of my kid and live my life. I was lucky—it didn’t impact me as much as it did others, but so many were suffering… and as long as I didn’t have to think about it too much, it wasn’t so bad. So I hold my own share of the responsibility for what happened. And when I think about that, I think I don’t deserve to be happy ...” Her voice faded out, and he could feel her quivering as she cried. 

He caressed her back, holding her tightly. “You were one person. What could you have done?”

Her eyes flew to his, challenging him. “ _ You _ were one person, and you took Goodneighbor away from that psychopath Vic, gave it back to the people who called it home. You built a safe haven. You saved so many lives.”

“That wasn’t just me, though. There were so many of us. We all trained together, fought together. I’d love to take the credit, Sunshine, but it was a group effort.”

“But that’s just it… I could have…”

He pulled slightly away to hold her at arm’s length. It must have been close to morning as gray light was slowly filtering in through the window, providing just enough illumination for him to see her face, the tears tracking down it, the redness of her eyes, and the pain they held. 

“You did the best you could. You had a kid, you had that jerk of a husband, you had your job, you had your own shit to deal with. I don’t know all the details, but I know what Vault-Tec was up to and the ties they had with the government. It was way bigger than you. If you’d fought back…” He couldn’t finish the thought. He knew the truth, what had happened to those who tried to press back against the government. The evidence was scattered across the wasteland, coast to coast. 

“Haylen told me so much. It’s how the Brotherhood got started, and they kept detailed records. One guy… saw some crazy shit and put a stop to it. They weren’t always fucking fascists. Apparently that’s a more recent development.”

“That’s what MacCready says too.” Hancock sighed. “They’ve always been anti-ghoul though. Anti everyone who ain’t them.” 

“They can learn,” Erica said. “I finally got through to Haylen.”

“Sure, there are some who are willing to hear it. But what about someone like Rhys? You think he would ever be willing to give me a hug? And that Maxson asshole… condemning one of his own to death because he found out he’s a synth. What a fucking piece of work.” He pondered it for a moment, his hands tracing Erica’s curves, loving the texture of her soft skin. “How did they find that out, anyway?”

Erica huffed. “Fucking Railroad. They are the absolute worst spies ever. The Brotherhood has been dispatching Scribes from their airship and sending them to a bunch of different locations to hack into computer systems and download info. Then they sort through it to learn about what was going on pre-war and get clues about where to recon for tech. It’s part of why they know so much about how shit went down. But they got lucky and found a previous Railroad safehouse that had been destroyed and abandoned. Their download included a list of synths who’d been wiped and given fresh personalities and names. And guess who was on that list?”

“Holy shit…” Hancock breathed. “How the hell did he wind up in the Brotherhood?”

“This was years ago apparently, and the Railroad was still operating quite a bit in D.C. and a bunch of other locations along the Eastern seaboard. Apparently they had led a whole group of synths there, wiped them, and dropped them off in different towns with their new names and personalities to let them assimilate. None of them had any idea they were synths. Far as they knew, they’d grown up in D.C. and had come to the town to look for work. A while later, the Brotherhood came sniffing around, looking for recruits, and Danse signed up.”

Hancock was silent for a while. “That’s nuts,” he finally said. 

“No argument here,” she replied. “It finally opened up Haylen’s eyes to how fucked up the Brotherhood’s beliefs were, though. I’m sad that’s what it took.”

“Deacon needs to know about this. They need to check other locations, wipe their records. They’re putting everyone at risk.” 

Erica nodded. “I’m hoping we can stop by the church tomorrow… well, today, I guess.” She sighed and stretched. “Speaking of which…” She started to roll toward the edge of the bed. Hancock caught her arm and gently pulled her back. 

“That can wait a few more hours,” he said. “We both need more sleep.” He grinned. “And if you honestly think I’m letting you out of this bed without doing terrible things to you, you got another think coming.” 

Erica giggled. “Well, I’m not going to argue with that.” She leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss.

God, he was glad to have her home.


	15. Chapter 15

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. One of her legs slid between his, and her arms crept around his neck, pulling his face closer. He marvelled again at her soft lips on his wrecked ones and his breath caught in his chest. 

Her eyes opened and she gazed at him. “You okay?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Just can’t believe you’re actually back. I…  I missed you.” 

She ducked her head. “God, I’m so sorry, John. I fucked up so bad, leaving you like that. It was cruel.” She sighed. “I… I didn’t know what else to do. I knew you would insist on coming with me, and I was so afraid of… something going wrong out there. In the Glowing Sea.” She paused and brushed her fingers against his face. “That power armor is insane. I’m pretty sure it’s the only reason I’m still here. Those creatures out there… deathclaws, radscorpions…” She shuddered. “They would have torn us apart.”

“MacCready told me what you said about Danse. Do you still feel that way?”

She considered for a moment, trailing her fingers down his chest. “That he’s expendable? I’m… not sure. I don’t think so. Not anymore. I don’t think he’s… a bad person. I think he has bad _ideas_ , but I think that getting this new information about himself might force him to change his mind about some of them. It sure worked for Haylen. And he chose to run away rather than face the music. He knew what the punishment was going to be. What a terrifying thing that must have been, to find out that you were never who you thought you were, that you were something you had been taught to hate.” 

Her fingers had reached his belly and continued working their way south. He sighed, and leaned into her touch. Finally, her hand wrapped around him, and he groaned as she gently stroked, alternating with light squeezes. 

“Oh, damn, Sunshine, I missed you,” he said. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but her touch was feather-soft and sure. It wouldn’t be long. And wait… wasn’t he the one who was supposed to be doing terrible things to _her_? He needed to catch up. His hands curved down over her ass, now molded by the Wasteland, and his fingers continued to creep and explore. Her hips bucked as his fingers glided across her folds, and he grinned. 

“I still don’t feel good about creeping away in the middle of the night,” she murmured. “I just… I need you to know that. I hated it, even as I was planning it and doing it.” 

“I kinda get it,” he said. “I woulda been hard to shake. And I definitely wouldn’t have let you head into Cambridge on your own, especially after last time. Good call, by way, grabbing MacCready.” 

“Thanks,” she murmured. “But you need to shut up now.” 

He chuckled. “Can do.” He slid a finger into her, and her eyes closed as she sighed and started to rock against him. Her own hand moved faster around his now fully hard cock, her thumb lightly massaging the underside of the tip. It felt incredibly, but he had other plans.

He leaned against her, nudging her onto her back, and her hand fell away from him. He briefly missed the touch, but it was okay—it was his turn. Her legs fell apart, and he added another finger to the one that was inside her, pressing them in and out, and began lightly circling her clit with his thumb. She trembled at the touch, and her hands found his waist and caressed his damaged skin. 

His mouth found hers again. He slid his tongue in, gently exploring. Releasing her, he began working down the front of her body, rediscovering all the familiar planes of her torso, and investigating new muscles and small scars. The hand that wasn’t inside her brushed against an unfamiliar scar on her collarbone. 

“What’s this, Sunshine?”

Her voice was breathy, distracted. “It’s from when the deathclaw grabbed me. There’s a lot of internal machinery on the inside of the armor, and the suit I was wearing was a little too big for me. I slid around, and one of the monitors caught me through the flight suit and cut me. It wasn’t a huge injury, so we didn’t want to waste a Stimpak on it.” 

“Damn,” he whispered, kissing the scar. He continued down her body, finding and capturing a nipple, suckling to claim it as his own. The other one came to attention, as though it were jealous. Grinning, he reached for it and worked it in his fingers, even as his other hand continued to work inside her. 

“Jesus, John,” she breathed. “How do you do that?”

The answer, of course, was _practice_ , but he didn’t think it was appropriate or that she would appreciate it. And was it really correct? He had always enjoyed pleasuring those he was with (unless it was more of a fuck-and-run situation, and those were certainly fun in their own way), but it was never like it was with her. In their time together, he’d learned her so well, knew the things she liked, and did his very best to make her melt under his touch. Nothing gave him such joy, not being mayor, not stabbing raiders, not even the chems.

He continued to work a nipple with his fingers as his mouth continued down her torso, finding her belly—and the new muscles under that soft skin. Incredible. His resilient Sunshine. His tongue found and traced the marks that she had once been so self-conscious about, and the muscles beneath jumped and trembled in response, delighting him. While some things about her were different, her ticklishness at his touch remained the same. 

Finally, finally, he found her folds, and oh, she was so wet now, quivering at every move of his fingers. Her legs fell apart to grant him better access, and he dove in, replacing his thumb with his mouth, his tongue lightly flicking at her clit while he pressed his fingers in harder and faster. She gasped and reached for his head, pulling him closer. He couldn’t help but grin. It was nice to be wanted. 

His wrecked lips pulled at her, rhythmically, increasing the tension, until she shattered, rocking, straining against his fingers, her body shuddering and her fingers digging into his scalp. Her breath came in gasps as her thighs clenched against his head, nearly to the point of pain. His free hand caressed her leg, his rough palm against her soft skin, stroking her, guiding her, as she rode the waves and slowly began to come down from the high. 

“Holy shit,” she finally gasped. “I missed you so fucking much.” 

He laughed. “You missed me, or you missed _this_?” He twitched his fingers inside her as if to make his point, and she jumped, nearly arching her back off the bed.

Her hand lightly slapped against his head. “ _You_ , you idiot. I mean, I’m not arguing about all of this, but of course I missed you.”

His heart leapt, and he slid his fingers out of her. Without missing a beat, rolled himself over her and slipped into her. She jumped and twitched at the sudden change, but immediately wrapped her legs around him and rolled her hips against his, quickly finding a rhythm, even while he could still feel her pulsing from his previous attention. He found her mouth with his, and their tongues pressed against each other, as each attempted to devour the other. His need for her was intense, and his thrusts became frantic, losing all sense of rhythm. The old bed knocked against the wall and the whole building was probably shaking as he thrust into her again and again, and he didn’t care who heard or who knew. Let them listen in. His Erica, his Sunshine, was home, and he wanted all of her, wanted to never let her go, wanted to never leave this room or this moment. Once again, he felt her entire body shudder, and she cried out, fingers scrabbling at his back, body arching up, her insides clenching around him, and it spurred him to the edge.

At the last possible moment, he realized that they had forgotten the Rad-X. _Dammit_ , he cursed internally, before pulling himself out just as he came, his whole body shaking and trembling, his hands gripping her waist tightly, fingers squeezing rhythmically. Her hands found his head, and she pulled him to her, kissing him deeply as her fingers caressed the skin of his scalp and neck, trailing along the ridges, dipping into folds, curling around what remained of his outer ears. It stunned him, over and over, that she could touch him so gently, so lovingly, with no fear or disgust. It had always been that way with her, but it was still so new, so unlike anything he had ever known—even before he had turned ghoul—that he couldn’t help but marvel in the want, the need, the _desire_ in her touch. 

Both of them rested, catching the breath, bodies quivering as they held each other tightly, barely moving. He hoped with all his heart that he would never have to let her out of his sight again.


	16. Chapter 16

The rest of the morning passed in a blur as they alternated between dozing and exploring each others’ bodies with lips, tongues, and fingers. At one point (which he hoped would be burned into his consciousness for the remainder of his life), she straddled him and slowly rocked, her body illuminated by the beams of light pouring in through the ancient glass of the balcony doors. When she opened her eyes and gazed down at him with nothing but love and desire, he thought he might burn to a crisp from the intensity of his joy. 

Hours later, she lay curled against his side while he stroked his fingers against her bare shoulder and smoked a cigarette. By the quality of the light, it was early afternoon, and he supposed that they might actually need to emerge and re-engage with the rest of the world. 

“So what’s next, Sunshine?” he asked, his voice low. 

“Hmmmm,” she sighed and stretched out. “Well, I need to talk to Desdemona, warn the Railroad about the Brotherhood, figure out where Danse went and find a way to protect him....”

“And what the hell is this about tracking down a fucking courser?”

“The chip is the key to getting into the Institute. I have to decode it and bring it back to Virgil—”

“You have to go back into the Sea?!” Hancock sat up, horrified. “And how the fuck are you supposed to decode this thing?”

“I need to talk to Desdemona about that, too. I’m betting Tom would be up for the job. And yes. Dr. Virgil thinks he can create a schematic for a device that will get me into the Institute. So back into the sea I go. At least I have the power armor.” 

Hancock swallowed. “You’re gonna teleport yourself into the Institute.”

She nodded. “Yup.” 

“And there’s really no other way?”

“That’s what Virgil says.”

“Do you think you can… trust him?”

She sighed. “He fled the Institute of his own free will and turned himself into a super mutant so he could stay hidden. Kellogg was supposed to be hunting him down, remember? This guy has nothing to lose and everything to gain from the destruction of the Institute. I think we can trust him.” 

A thought suddenly occurred to Hancock, and it terrified him. “Sunshine… with Kellogg in Valentine’s body… he can safely travel through the Glowing Sea now. He could finish the job.”

The blood seemed to drain from her face. “Oh my god. And if he gets to Virgil before I get those schematics….”

“Shit. I guess that means it’s time to get up.” 

  
  
  


The decision was made. They would stock up on ammunition, rally the troops, and head into Cambridge toward the CIT ruins, with a brief pit stop at the Old North Church to give Desdemona and the Railroad a heads up. If it took a small army to bring a courser down… well, they currently had that at their disposal, didn’t they? 

As they rounded the corner to Kill or Be Killed, Hancock spotted MacCready and Haylen sitting on one of the benches against the small stone wall in the courtyard. Their heads were near each other, and they both had small smiles on their faces as MacCready gesticulated wildly, apparently deep into the retelling of a favorite story. Hancock chanced a glance at Erica’s face and noted the half-smile gracing her lips. She caught his eye and winked. 

Well, it made sense, didn’t it? MacCready and Haylen were pretty close in age and came from the same general area. They’d seen the same events play out and probably knew some of the same people. MacCready had always insisted that the D.C. Brotherhood was a very different organization than Maxson’s current Brotherhood… and clearly Haylen was disenchanted with Maxson. The kid could do worse—and he deserved some happiness after everything he had been through. But he also had a job to do.

“Hey, kid!” he called out. MacCready jumped a little and then turned to Hancock. “Ain’t you supposed to be out scoping Kellogg’s hidey hole?”

MacCready looked guilty. “Well, I….” 

Haylen spoke up. “It’s okay, John. He came off watch a few hours ago. Ham, Alby, and Rocco are currently on duty. We’ll be relieving them in another hour or so.”

Hancock made a mental note of the word _we_. “Any luck so far?” 

MacCready shook his head. “No sign of another entrance, and we’ve had someone watching the main entrance at all times.” 

“Good work, kid. Enjoy your break,” Hancock said with a smirk. He would need to chat with MacCready before they left, fill him in on his worry about Kellogg’s new ability to safely endure the Glowing Sea, but this was not the place. 

He turned to find Erica dickering with KL-E-0 over the price of .44 rounds. The damn things were a lot harder to come by than 10mm ammo or even fusion cells, but they packed a serious wallop, making them excellent courser-hunting ammo. 

“Come on, KL-E-0, five caps a piece? That’s highway robbery!” Erica sounded frustrated, but Hancock noted the grin on her face. 

“I have a pistol on sale, soaked in the blood of the last person who asked me for a discount,” the assaultron replied in her sultry robotic tone. 

“Oh come on, KL-E-0, have a heart,” Hancock said. 

“I have no heart, Mayor, as you well know. Perhaps you should come back when you’re ready to go all the way.” 

Hancock was warming up to the shopkeeper’s banter. “You’ve been spouting ‘Murder and mayhem at a discount’ for years. So where’s the discount? That’s false advertising!”

“Are you going to buy something, or do I have to incinerate you?” Hancock could hear KL-E-0’s internal gears whirring in a threatening manner. If this was any other assaultron, he’d probably be pissing his pants right about now.

“Three caps a round, KL-E-0. That’s my best offer.” He noted Erica inching away from the counter. He wasn’t worried. KL-E-0 was mostly harmless… wasn’t she? 

The robot emitted a wheeze that he supposed could be a sigh. “Fine. Let’s get you outfitted, killer.” 

He charged the purchase to the Mayor’s office account, throwing in several boxes of shotgun shells as well. Daisy wasn’t currently manning her shop, but he was planning on travelling light anyway. He’d check his stash upstairs for chems and Stimpaks. 

As they left the store, Preston came around the corner. “Erica, Mayor,” he said, tipping his hat. “I was looking for you both.” 

“Good,” Hancock said. “I was about to come looking for you.” He looked around for a moment. Too many people lingering on the street to comfortably have this conversation. “Follow me,”  he said, jerking his head in toward the interior of Goodneighbor.

He led Preston and Erica to the small alleyway directly across from the State House. He checked to make sure that bitch Bobbi No-Nose wasn’t skulking around, but the only person he saw was AJ, one of the dealers who called Goodneighbor home, and his two bodyguards. AJ was trouble, but Hancock didn’t have time to deal with him now. One of these days he’d hire some sucker to take that piece of shit out, but at the moment, there were bigger fish to fry. 

“AJ, get the fuck out of here,” Hancock growled. “Official business.” 

AJ first glared at him and then smirked at Preston and Erica, but snapped his fingers and walked away, his two guards following in his footsteps. 

“Fucking asshole,” Hancock mumbled. 

Preston cleared his throat. “What did you need, Mayor?”

“How would you feel about joining me and Erica for a spot of courser hunting?” Hancock asked. 

“Courser? Like… an actual Institute courser? Are you insane?” Preston asked. 

Hancock lit a cigarette and offered one to the Minuteman, who gratefully accepted it. “Yup. We’ve found someone who can help us get in to the Institute, but we gotta take down a courser first. Even though Erica was able to dispatch Kellogg practically on her own, I ain’t feeling super confident about the two of us tracking down and killing a courser. I’d rather stack the odds in our favor a bit, especially since we’re so close to actually busting into the place. So I’m hoping you’d be willing to come along for the ride. I’m also hoping to make a pit stop at the Cambridge police station and have you grab Erica’s dog. They don’t know you, so you’re our best bet in that regard.” 

Preston considered the request for a moment as he slowly smoked. “So we’re heading into Cambridge? I’m sure getting the dog won’t be a problem, but how will we find this courser?” 

“The Pipboy,” Erica said. “I took one from the Vault up by Sanctuary. I haven’t been using it, it’s stashed up in John’s office, but apparently coursers give off some kind of signal when they’re above ground. I can tune into the signal using the radio function.”

Preston looked at both of them, his mouth pulled tight. “Did you want me to bring the rest of my team?”

Hancock and Erica glanced at each other. “No,” Erica said. “Just the three of us. Well, four once we get Dogmeat back.” She turned to Hancock. “Wait, what about Fahrenheit?”

“No, I need her to run Goodneighbor while I’m out.” _And in case I don’t come back_ , he thought to himself. She was his obvious successor, heir to everything he had. No need to say that part out loud, though.

“Okay,” Preston said. “I’m in. But if… _when_ we get back, will you help the Minutemen retake the Castle?”

Erica bit her lip. “How soon are you hoping to do that? Once we have the chip, I have to decode it and get it back to the scientist. And once we can get in… I’m not losing anymore time.” 

Hancock started a bit at this statement. He hadn’t considered that she would want him to go along with her to the Institute. He couldn’t imagine that a ghoul would get a warm welcome there. They’d have to discuss it later. He wanted to go with her and help her retrieve her kid… but he’d also prefer that neither of them be incinerated on sight.

“You’ll need to wait on some of that stuff, right?” Preston said. “I mean, it will take some time to decode the chip, won’t it? I don’t think it will be a big job, especially with a good-sized group. We’re just killing off a bunch of mirelurks.”

Erica looked to Hancock. “What do you think?”

Hancock thought about it for a moment. Who knew where they’d be after retrieving that chip? But if it bought the Minuteman’s assistance... . “I think he’s got a point,” he finally said. “It’s better than just sitting around on pins and needles.”

“Okay, Preston,” Erica said. “We’re in.”

Preston smiled and clapped his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll make a Minuteman of you yet, Erica.” 

She frowned and took a step back, and Hancock jumped to intervene. “Don’t get ahead of yourself there, cowboy,” he rasped. “In the meantime, let’s go hunt a courser. We’ll meet by the front gate in thirty minutes. Bring plenty of ammo and all the Stimpaks you can carry.” 

“10-4, Mayor,” Preston replied.


	17. Chapter 17

The trio slowly picked their way through the streets of Boston, taking a more circuitous route that allowed them to avoid Faneuil Hall and Haymarket Mall. There was no need to waste their ammo on mutants and raiders, if they could possibly help it. Hancock watched Erica carefully placing her feet, her eyes alert and constantly scanning for potential dangers, and remembered back to their first trip together to Diamond City. He wondered if he’d ever believe the difference between then and now. 

As they made a left off of the ruins of Hanover onto the rubble of Charter, Erica froze, her head slowly turning. The two men stopped as well. Hancock’s heartbeat began to race, recalling their encounter with the super mutant suicider. With the hearing in his left ear now blown to shit, he wondered if he’d even be able to detect a suicider, let alone know which direction it was coming from. 

“Everything okay, Sunshine?” he murmured. 

“Yeah, I just thought I heard–” She was interrupted by a ball of fur flying out between two buildings, tackling her and pinning her to the ground before either of the two men could react. A moment later, as he was lifting his shotgun, Hancock realized—it was Dogmeat. Preston started laughing as he lowered his laser musket, and Hancock shook his head in amused disgust. The fucking _dog_. 

“You scared the everloving _shit_ out of me,” he growled at the dog, who was now happily licking his mistress’s face. 

“Guess that eliminates the need to pay the Brotherhood a visit,” Preston commented. 

“Thank God for small favors,” Erica sputtered in between licks. “Get off me, you crazy beast. Yes, I missed you too. Good work on giving Rhys the slip. Hope you bit him while you were at it.” The dog sat back on his haunches, tongue lolling out, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m going to take that to mean you did. Goog boy. If Purina was still making dog biscuits, I’d give you one.” 

Preston looked at Hancock, confused, and Hancock just grinned. He was used to Erica’s pre-war commentary by now. He reached down to scratch the dog under an ear. Dogmeat whined in pleasure then rolled over to show his belly. “Pathetic,” Hancock commented. 

  
  
  
  


An hour later, they were slipping through the catacombs beneath the church. Preston looked confused, but didn’t comment, and Dogmeat happily led the way. Glory was guarding the entryway when they arrived. 

“No way,” she said, scowling, her husky voice angry. “I heard this bitch showed up in Brotherhood power armor, and I don’t even know who the asshole with the musket is. You need to leave. Now.” She hoisted her minigun and aimed it in their direction. 

Erica stepped forward, her hands raised in front of her. “Glory, I swear to you, I am not working with the Brotherhood. They don’t know it yet, but I’m actively working against them. In fact, I have intel from the Brotherhood that I need to give to Dez. You guys need to know about this.” 

Glory’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How am I supposed to trust you?”

“Glory, where’s Deacon?” Hancock asked. 

“He’s out on assignment,” she commented, but Hancock could see the concern in her eyes. 

“Didn’t he come back here last night?” 

“Briefly,” Glory replied. “But then he headed out again.” 

Preston spoke up. “Glory, my name is Preston. I’m working on putting the Minutemen back together. The Institute is a threat to everyone here, but I don’t believe that the synths are. As far as I can tell, they’re just people. I don’t have a lot of information about what you all are doing down here, but from what I can gather, we seem to be on the same side.” 

“Glory, I _have_ to talk to Dez,” Erica said. “She needs to know this stuff. You guys could be in danger along with the synths you’re trying to help.” 

Hancock could see indecision in the Railroad heavy’s features. He was reminded again of how much she looked like Fahrenheit. 

“Fine,” she finally relented. “But don’t even think of starting anything.” She patted her minigun as if to drive the point home. 

 

 

 

They followed Glory into the Railroad headquarters. Desdemona stood in front of a large pedestal, covered with maps and markers. The woman took a long draw on her cigarette and glared at them as smoke drifted from her nostrils. 

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice ringing out against the stone walls and pillars. It seemed to Hancock that everyone in the room looked up from what they had been doing. Dogmeat’s hackles were up, and he put a gnarled hand on the dog’s head to calm it down. 

Erica approached the other woman. “I have information about the Brotherhood and their operations,” she said quietly. “It could mean danger for the Railroad.”

“I see,” Desdemona said. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” She led them to a small alcove littered with unoccupied beds. Dogmeat promptly flopped down on a mattress. “Glory, go get Carrington. I get the feeling the both of you should hear this. Have you heard back from Deacon?”

Glory’s eyes cut quickly to the three before returning to Desdemona. “Not since last night, no.” She left and returned promptly with the doctor. 

“Okay,” Desdemona said. “What do you need us to know?”

  


 

Following Erica’s explanation of the Brotherhood’s activities and the discovery that Danse was a synth, the small group was silent for a moment. Finally Desdemona broke the silence with a curse. 

“Which safehouse could this have been?” Glory asked. 

“It’s hard to say,” Carrington replied. “It sounds like one that’s been abandoned for quite some time, especially since this particular synth would have been moved perhaps as many as ten years ago. I’d love to know which fool failed to purge the records prior to moving.” 

“They may have not had a chance to,” Hancock remarked. 

“Even at the Switchboard, they made it a top priority to erase the data,” Carrington snapped in response. “They knew perfectly well that the protection of synths was their primary mission.”

“If there’s any good news, it’s that the Brotherhood appeared to find this location by accident,” Preston said. 

“That’s true, but if they could find one, they could find others,” Desdemona said with a sigh. “Glory, I need you to make a list of the locations of all of the past safehouses. You and Drummer Boy will need to gather the tourists and have them check on each of these locations and ensure that any records have been purged. This was a terrible mistake on our part, and it put a synth in danger.”

“A synth that could have put _you_ in danger,” Preston commented. 

Glory glared at the Minuteman. “That’s completely irrelevant. Synths have free will. They have the right to make their own choices, regardless of whether we might agree with those choices.”

Preston nodded but didn’t look entirely convinced. 

“Where are you three headed next?” Desdemona asked. “Perhaps this Danse should be brought back here for his own safety.” 

“I don’t know where he is, and that’s probably for the best,” Erica said. “I wouldn’t want to risk moving him when the Brotherhood is on high alert.” She glanced at Hancock. “We’re actually about to try to track down a Courser.” 

“A Courser?” Glory asked. “Are you crazy?”

“Seems like it sometimes,” Hancock quipped. 

“I need a Courser chip,” Erica replied. “To get into the Institute.”

Desdemona’s jaw dropped. “You… know how to get in?”

“Almost,” Erica said. “They teleport in and out. I’ve made contact with an ex-Institute scientist in hiding. He says he can re-create plans to build a device that will let me hijack the signal to get me in, but he needs the data from a Courser chip to do it. In fact, I’m hoping that Tom will help me crack the code on the chip. If he can, you guys will get quite a bit of valuable intelligence as well.” 

“Are you sure he isn’t just sending you on a suicide mission?” Carrington asked. “We have yet to successfully take down a Courser.”

“And we shouldn’t even be trying,” Glory snarled. “They’re synths too. How are we fulfilling our mission to protect synths when we are determining which synths are worthy of protection and which ones aren’t?”

Desdemona sighed. “We’ve already had this argument, Glory, and I’m not doing it again. If the Coursers change their minds and wish to escape, I’m happy to help them. But until then, they are actively working against us and are therefore our enemies.”

“They can’t help that they are brainwashed–”

“No, they can’t,” Desdemona snapped. “But they are still one of the biggest threats to our operations. Now drop it.” 

Glory seethed, but held her tongue. 

“He appears to be sincere,” Erica said. “He’s gone through a lot of trouble to escape the Institute. Plus, I made a deal with him. He really wants something from inside, and it’s impossible for him to go back.” 

“Why did he leave?” Carrington asked. “I understand why the synths want to escape—they’re nothing more than slaves to the Institute—but why would a scientist want to leave?”

“He disagreed with the morality of the project he was working on,” Erica replied. 

“Synths?” Glory asked. 

“No. His unit, Bioscience, was experimenting with something called FEV.”

Hancock’s eyes widened. Erica hadn’t revealed that particular detail. Carrington slammed his hand down in apparent disgust. “Those psychopaths are playing with the forced evolutionary virus? Are they insane?”

“I think we’ve already established that they are,” Desdemona replied, her mouth tight. “FEV. Dammit! That means they’re creating–”

“–Super mutants,” Erica said, finishing Desdemona’s sentence. 

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“Holy shit,” Preston whispered. “They’re not just replacing the people they kidnap with synths. They’re turning them into super mutants.”

Hancock chanced a glance at Erica. Her face was so pale it was practically gray and her mouth was pulled tight. “We’re going to put a stop to it.”

Preston’s brown eyes met Hancock’s black ones. The ghoul nodded slightly before breaking the eye contact. God help them all if the Institute had experimented on Erica’s kid.


	18. Chapter 18

Gunshots pierced the ancient car as the trio ducked behind it. 

“We can’t stay here!” Hancock’s raspy voice rang out above the din. “This thing’s going to blow!”

“Shit!” Erica scrambled to get away. Preston popped up, and his laser musket hummed as he fired at the raiders from the camp they had stumbled across while their attention was focused on Erica’s beeping Pipboy. Dogmeat ran forward and leapt at the raider closest to them, knocking the woman off her feet before clamping his jaws down on her throat. 

“No, dammit, Dogmeat!” Erica hissed. Hancock grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the car, which was now burning. Preston followed as they ducked behind a crumbling building. 

“Quick!” Hancock shoved a bottle of Rad-X into Erica’s hand. “Before the car blows!” Erica popped a couple of the capsules into her mouth and dry swallowed. Sure enough, Hancock felt his pants tighten in response. _Not now_ , he muttered internally to his now awake and completely inappropriate dick. _Give me a fucking break_. 

Dogmeat appeared behind the building, his muzzle coated in blood. Erica gagged at the sight, and a moment later, the car blew with a deafening roar and lit up the area like a supernova. Hancock threw himself in front of her and embraced the warm, soothing sensation of the wave of radiation as it crested over them and settled into his warped skin. He heard Preston grunt next to him, and the dog yelped, but dammit he was one ghoul. He couldn’t protect _all_ of them. 

As the blotches in his eyesight from the bright light of the explosion started to fade, he held Erica at an arm’s length. A little pale, a little sweaty, but overall not bad. Preston leaned against the building, looking much worse for wear. His dark skin was mottled and blotchy, and he was sweating profusely. The dog huddled in a ball, whining. 

“You okay, man?” Hancock asked. 

“Yeah,” Preston gasped. “Just… gimme a minute.” 

“I’ll go check and see what’s left,” Hancock said. “Hopefully that blast took out most of those assholes. Once we’re clear, we can hook up some Radaway on you and Dogmeat there if you need it.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Erica spoke up, her knuckles white on her .44. He nodded, and the two of them crept back around the corner. Her Pipboy still beeped urgently. They were close, that was for sure, and Hancock just hoped that the damn Courser would stay hidden until everyone was back in fighting shape. 

They had stopped in the middle of what Erica identified as Killian Court. He had watched as she slowly turned to look around her at the wreckage of what had once been the United States’ most well-known center of technological advancement. Although he wondered what thoughts were going through her head, he felt it better not to ask. The past belonged in the past, although he couldn’t help but curse the descendants of those students, who now felt they had the right to terrorize the Commonwealth, his home. 

“Well, here goes nothing,” Erica had said, and flipped through the radio signals until she found a channel with a nearly inaudible beeping mixed in the static. Her eyes met his, and he had swallowed. It was on. 

The trio had walked around in circles through the ruined campus until they got the hang of listening for the slight increase in volume that meant they were going in the right direction. As they continued, they also noticed that the beeping sped up, which they interpreted to mean that they were on the right track. Unfortunately, they had been so focused on listening to the signal that they had practically strolled right into a raider encampment. 

As the two of them crept around the remains of the camp, the Pipboy on Erica’s wrist ticked, counterpointing the beeping and warning them about the radiation that now blanketed the area courtesy of the explosion. 

“Let me know if you start feeling sick, Sunshine,” Hancock said as he stripped a charred raider of shotgun shells, bottle caps, and a Jet canister. “Might mean it’s time for another dose. We don’t want to hang around here for too long.” 

Erica nodded as she kicked at another dead raider. “Looks like that blast really did the trick.” She shuddered. “Jesus, I can’t believe I used to drive one of those things and just took it for granted. We all knew how deadly an accident would be, so we drove so slowly and carefully. The subway was much more effective. Wish we could have stuck with gasoline, though.” 

“Why did the carmakers switch from gasoline to fusion?” Hancock asked. 

“There weren’t a lot of options. We’d all but run out of gasoline. That was part of why Europe had fallen apart. They couldn’t adapt as quickly.” She sighed. “Didn’t seem to do us any favors in the end.” 

“Still, why fusion? There are other sources of power.” He found a damaged turret that was still spinning and bashed it with his shotgun to finish the job. It was full of 5.56 ammo, which he pocketed. KL-E-0 would give him a good price for the rounds. “Heard from some folks that out west there’s an old dam that’s powering up half the Mojave desert. And apparently the other half is powered by solar.”

“It’s a good question,” Erica replied. “They had gotten good at fusion, and we all bought into the promise of nuclear energy. They had experimented with a few different versions of electric cars and various hybrids, but once fusion was available, the game was over. They never needed recharging, and that was a huge selling point.” She peeked behind a door, her pistol drawn. “Keep in mind that this was all before my time. By the time I got my driver’s license, it was fusion or nothing.” She turned back to him. “John, I don’t think anyone is left.”

“Yeah, seems like it. Let’s go check on Preston and Dogmeat.” 

  
  


 

Both the Minuteman and the dog seemed to be feeling better, so they decided to continue. The sun was setting, but Hancock didn’t think it wise to risk losing the trail of the Courser, especially now that they knew the damn things could appear and reappear in a flash. He hadn’t spotted any crows but he still wondered… was the Institute watching them even now? They had to be literally right on top of the damn place. Did they know what the small group was up to? The possibility troubled him. Just like when they’d been tracking Kellogg, he couldn’t help feeling like they were walking into a trap. 

They followed the signal down the ruins of Memorial Drive, nearly retracing the route they had taken to get to C.I.T. Occasionally, wreckage blocked their trail and they had to find a way around, but it was easy to pick up the trail again. 

The beeping had gotten nearly frantic, and they were creeping along in almost full dark, moving slowly and cautiously, guns out in front of them, jumping at almost every shadow, sure that the damn Courser was about to ambush them. Hancock’s mouth was dry and his heart raced. 

Shortly before Memorial Drive connected with the Longfellow Bridge, a building loomed large in front of them. The beeping was now so fast it was almost one long, solid tone. 

“Greenetech Genetics,” Erica whispered. “Who knows what they were up to in there?” 

“Think he’s in there?” Preston murmured in a low tone. 

“Must be,” Erica replied, then sighed. “Greenetech, Med-Tek, Vault-Tec. That’s not a coincidence, you know.” 

“I always just assumed prewar folks were lazy about naming things,” Hancock said with a crooked grin. 

A smile briefly touched the corners of Erica’s lips. “We weren’t _that_ bad.” The smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. “I never gave it that much thought to be honest. The Brotherhood put it all together, though. Haylen told me about it. All these research companies were in bed with each other _and_ with the U.S. government. There was some pretty ugly stuff going on just before the bombs finally fell. Vault-Tec wasn’t the only one experimenting on humans. Out west… the military had created FEV and were looking for creative ways to distribute it as chemical warfare, which was banned in theory, not that they cared. They were dipping people into vats of it, releasing it into the air.” She looked at him, her eyes sad in the green glow of the Pipboy. “Putting it into chems.” 

Hancock felt the blood drain from his face. “Chems. What… what kind of chems?” 

“Chems that combined varying doses of FEV with radiation… just to see what the effects would be.” Her voice was so quiet it was almost impossible to hear.

He shuddered and brushed a hand over the place where his nose had once been. “Effects like… ghoulification, you mean.” 

She nodded. 

He had to sit down. 

She sat down next to him and took his hand in hers. She didn’t stop talking though. “They created all kinds of cures too, but what they didn’t tell anyone was that they had created the diseases in the first place. It was science run amok, and that’s why the Brotherhood does what they do now. Their first leader was the one who discovered what they were up to and exactly how involved the government was in it. They had basically turned a military base in California into a giant experimental center. Sick stuff.” She swallowed. “I don’t agree with the Brotherhood’s solution though. Science isn’t bad. These experiments… they weren’t science. They were just… cruel. Sadistic.” Her thumb brushed over his gnarled knuckles. “I’m so sorry, John. Maybe… maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.” 

“No… I’m… It’s better to know.” He sighed. “Well, now I know why the Brotherhood has such a damn hate boner for me. Are all ghouls caused by FEV?”

“They seem to be. I’m not entirely sure how it’s possible that they seem to exist everywhere though, unless…” 

“Unless what?” 

“Well, there’s a theory, but it borders on conspiracy. Although everything else seems to have been one big conspiracy so maybe there’s something to it.”

“What’s the theory?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

She took a deep breath. “That Vault-Tec caused the bombs to launch. And released FEV into the air at the same time. That those motherfuckers were cocky enough to think they would live through it and could just watch what happened from their own cozy ‘control vaults’ and other shelters.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t explain everything, but it explains an awful lot. The way animals mutated, deathclaws, ghouls… Normal radiation doesn’t do that. It will burn you, give you cancer… but transform a gecko into a monster? Make a human practically immortal? No. That’s the FEV.” 

Preston spoke up. “That’s a lot to take in, Erica,” he said, his voice shaky. The ghoul and the woman jumped a bit. They had nearly forgotten that the Minuteman was still there. Dogmeat whined and tried to push himself under Erica’s arm. 

“Gross, Dogmeat. You stink,” she said, getting to her feet and pulling Hancock up with her. “I know it is, Preston,” she said. “Trust me. But… I think everyone needs to know. If nothing else, so we can try to stop it from happening again.” She looked down at the ground. “Because it sounds like that same sick fucking experimentation is still happening, right underneath us.”


	19. Chapter 19

As they approached the front door, Erica clicked off the Pipboy’s radio and stretched out her arm, shaking her hand. “That beeping was driving me nuts,” she commented. “And this thing is so heavy. How do people get used to it?”

“Did you want to take it off and put it in the pack?” Hancock asked. 

She considered for a moment. “No… not yet. But when I do take it off I’m going to have to be careful not to accidentally smack myself in the face every time I raise my hand.” 

Preston snickered, then suddenly sobered as the sound of gunshots drifted through the closed front door. “Sounds like maybe we’re not the first ones here.” 

“God forbid anything should be easy,” Erica said and pushed the door open. 

All three recoiled at the sight that greeted them. It wasn’t the rubble and general destruction of the lobby—those were normal sights for all three at this point—it was the dead bodies draped over desks and slumped in corners. Dogmeat nudged the limp hand of the body closest to them and whined. 

Preston’s face had gone ashy, his eyes wide. Hancock noted that the laser musket he held was trembling. “Hey Preston,” he said. “You okay, man?”

“These are Gunners,” Preston said. “Did… did the courser kill all these Gunners? Because if so… this is bad news.” 

Erica put a hand on the Minuteman’s shoulder. “If you need to go, I understand.”

Preston shook his head. “No… I won’t abandon you. But this is… too much like Quincy.”

“This ain’t gonna be like Quincy,” Hancock said.

Preston looked at him, his mouth drawn into a grimace. “You don’t know that.” 

Hancock smiled. “Yeah, I do. You ain’t really seen Sunshine here in action.” Dogmeat licked Preston’s hand as if in agreement. 

Preston swallowed and attempted to gather himself together. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, we can do this.” 

“There you go,” Hancock said. “Now let’s pick these guys apart for ammo. Dibs on any Jet or Mentats you find.” 

“It’s all yours, Mayor,” Preston said with a ghost of a smile. 

  
  


A dimly lit hallway off the main lobby led the trio up a flight of stairs and onto an elevated pathway. More dead Gunners littered the floor. 

“Jesus…” Hancock breathed. 

Just then, as if to cut him off, a voice boomed through the building. “The Courser’s on the second floor. Kill on sight. Send reinforcements to the lobby in case there are more.”

“Goddammit, not again,” Erica growled between clenched teeth. “Assholes and their fucking intercoms.” 

“Sounds like we might have company soon,” Hancock said. “How many of them are here? They must have brought a small army.”

“Given everything we’ve heard about Coursers, that’s not surprising,” said Preston. “And the damn Gunners are always recruiting. They make it sound like they’re a peacekeeping organization, but they’re just better armed raiders.” He sighed. “I still can’t believe they were able to convince Clint to defect.” 

“Yeah, MacCready found that one out the hard way, too,” Hancock agreed. “He got out but has to stay close to Goodneighbor and be extra careful so he doesn’t get caught out by one of their patrols. One of these days I’m gonna go with him to that goddamn base on the interchange and help him take out those two fuckers that keep harassing him.” 

The walkway they were on opened into a large atrium. As they stepped out onto the platform overlooking it, Hancock’s eyes caught a flashing to their right. “Get back!” he shouted, and they ducked back onto the walkway just as a turret started firing in their direction. 

The building shook with explosions. “Shit!” Erica cried. 

“I got this!” Preston cranked his musket and then leaned slightly into the entryway. Two shots of the musket and the turret exploded. Another one began firing directly in front of them, and Erica pulled Preston back by his duster. 

“I got something fun,” Hancock said. “Pulled a couple of these off one of those guys in the lobby.” He pulled a frag grenade out of his coat’s inner pocket. 

Erica’s eyes widened. “Jesus, John!” 

He grinned at her. “You’ll love this, Sunshine,” he said and pulled the pin before chucking the explosive through the door. They ducked down and the explosion rang out. The silence that followed indicated that he had managed to take out the second turret. “Nice thing about grenades,” he said. “You don’t gotta be accurate… just close.” Erica gave him a wobbly smile and he couldn’t resist—he pulled her to him and kissed her. 

Preston cleared his throat. “You guys are adorable, but maybe now’s not the time.”

“You’re just jealous,” Hancock replied.

Preston rolled his eyes and turned back to the atrium. Hancock couldn’t help but notice that the other man had never actually responded to this comment though. 

The laser musket hummed. “We got some Gunners here!” Preston called out. 

Hancock was suddenly all business again. He darted toward the door and spotted three Gunners across the open space of the atrium. He also noted the one that Preston had dropped. Erica appeared beside him. Before he could do anything else, she lined up her shots and took out all three gunners in quick succession.

Preston let out an appreciative whistle. “Nicely done!” he said. 

“I told you,” Hancock said, beaming with pride. “That’s my girl.” He playfully pinched her backside. 

“Do that again, and I’ll shoot _you_ , John Hancock,” she said.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, smiling. 

They picked over the Gunners in the atrium, both the ones they had killed and the ones that were already dead. Erica crowed when she found another grenade. “My turn next,” she called out. Hancock wondered how this could possibly be the same lost and miserable woman who had struggled with self-defense and the moral dilemmas of killing just months ago. He’d been baffled by her compassion for people who wanted to harm her, but now… well, not to be vulgar, but her sense of justice combined with her precise and deadly aim and now her apparent eagerness to throw a grenade turned him the fuck on. It was about the hottest goddamn thing he could think of. 

They slowly worked their way through the building, killing remaining Gunners as they went. The Gunners were clearly spooked, and while Hancock was glad since it made killing them that much easier, it also made him nervous. Would they actually be able to take down a Courser? Sure, they’d taken down Kellogg (for a while anyway), but Kellogg had gotten cocky. He had completely underestimated Erica and her passion for finding her son. Coursers weren’t technically human—were they capable of these same types of mental faults? 

Or were they technically human? This was the whole argument of the Railroad after all: It wasn’t how a being came into existence that determined its humanity—it was their free will, how they thought and felt and dreamed. Could a Courser dream? Did they have free will? Were Coursers created the same way as other synths? Were they designed from the ground up in a different way that made them such effective tools for the Institute? Or did they undergo some kind of intensive brainwashing program? He remembered the argument between Glory and Desdemona at the Railroad’s headquarters and found himself considering Glory’s desire to protect the Coursers. If they were brainwashed… well, brainwashing could be undone. Could Coursers be saved? Should they try?

And did he actually know any synths? You had no way of knowing. The synths themselves seemed to have no idea for the most part. They just lived their lives, doing all the things so-called normal humans (and ghouls) did—eating, sleeping, scraping for a living, killing when it was called for, fucking, falling in love….

And speaking of ghouls… he knew perfectly well that he was human, despite his exposure and transformation from what had apparently been FEV. He couldn’t say that he was the same person he had been before—fuck, he’d taken the drug specifically to leave that fucker behind. But despite his outer changes and his resolve to be a better man, he knew deep down that his inner being hadn’t changed in any fundamental way that made him less human than he had been. Fuck, he could probably argue that now he was _more_ human than he had ever been. 

Perhaps he could have turned himself around without ever taking that drug. Perhaps. There was no question that his ghoulification changed the way people acted around him, but it hadn’t truly changed _him_. 

Okay, so what about super mutants? They had also started out as human. They still had free will. They appeared to be able to think and rationalize to a certain extent; they were able to set traps after all. But they were blood-thirst killing machines. Like raiders, when you came to think about it. So were super mutants still technically human too? Or were raiders less than human?

All these questions, and they were making his head ache. Debating the nature of humanity, even internally, was hard work. Erica was right: So many questions, not nearly enough answers. If he was going to go down molerat holes like these, he should probably take some Mentats first. Provide a little extra boost. Hell, maybe that little tin container held all the answers to all these questions plaguing the post-war world, and he, Hancock, could be the fucker that figured all of it out. 

He reached into his pocket for his Mentats, but before his fingers could do more than brush the outside of the box, Preston, who had been taking point, stepped on a cryomine as he crossed a bridge leading between wings of the building. Hancock watched in horror as the man fell to the ground, frozen and seemingly lifeless.


	20. Chapter 20

From his left came a shriek of rage that nearly stopped his heart. An object whizzed by shortly after, and Hancock had just enough time to realize that it was the grenade Erica pulled off the dead Gunner. It flew across the walkway and into the doorway, where two Gunners hunkered down. 

An explosion ripped out, and one of the Gunners was down. The other, who—Hancock realized with horror—appeared to now be missing his leg below the knee, reached across to grab something from his dead companion. 

“Get back!” Hancock yelled, realizing what it was. He yanked Erica back around the corner, noting her wild eyes and furious grimace. He desperately wanted to check on the Minuteman, but that Gunner had a motherfucking _missile launcher_ ….

He threw himself over Erica as a missile exploded in the doorway they had stood in only moments ago. The explosion washed over them, and he howled in pain as his back took the brunt of the heat. 

He slumped to the side, barely noting the flames flickering in the hallway. Erica swatted at his back, and he observed vaguely that his coat must be on fire once more. _Poor coat._ Erica moved his collar to the side, and a moment later he felt the prick of a Stimpak. 

“Sunshine,” he whispered. She took his hand. He heard Dogmeat whine, but the dog was out of his line of sight.

“This was too much to ask,” she cried, her voice nearly as hoarse as his. “I should never have brought you guys here. Now you’re hurt and Preston is… is de—” 

“Shhhhh,” he reached up and caressed her face. “You don’t know that. He’s probably hurt, yeah, but those cryo mines usually just slow you down. They don’t usually kill you outright. We just gotta take out that fucker and then we can check.” 

Her face settled into a look of resolve. “You’re right,” she said. Reloading her .44, she inched back toward the door. 

“Watch out,” he mumbled, knowing she probably couldn’t hear him. What if they had another missile? Nothing he could do about it now. The Stimpak was doing its job, but slowly, and his vision was fading in and out. He must have been burned pretty bad. Again. It would be a damn miracle if they made it through all of this. 

The .44 fired several times and then Erica leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, for a moment before returning to his side. 

“I got him,” she said, quietly. 

He nodded. “Atta girl,” he said. He was so tired. 

“I’m going to go… check on Preston.” Concern and fear were written all over her face. 

“Okay. I ain’t going nowhere.” 

A smile briefly danced across her face, clashing with the concern in her eyes. “I’ll be right back.” 

He closed his eyes. 

  
  
  
  


A light jostling sensation brought him back to consciousness. His back still burned, but it was more tolerable. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was still in the same hallway. Preston now leaned against the wall across from him, eyes closed. Hancock narrowed his eyes, spotted the rise and fall of the man’s chest, and felt like a boulder had rolled off of him. The Minuteman leader was irritating as fuck, but he still kinda liked the guy.  He’d been working so hard and come so far… it would have been a huge blow to have lost him. 

He sat up and spotted Erica, guarding the doorway with her gun drawn and Dogmeat at her side. The movement caught her eye and she rose and moved to his side. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her fingers tracing over his face. 

He reached up and covered her hand with his own. “Better. Back’s still pretty sore, but not so bad anymore.” She bent over and kissed him, and his heart sang. 

“How’s our guy over there?” he asked when they separated. 

She looked over to Preston. “I… I think he’s okay? He’s alive at any rate. And defrosted.” She sighed. “I don’t know what I was thinking. This is an impossible ask, and we haven’t even made it to the damn Courser yet.” Her face crumpled. “Just like always, one step forward and two steps back. And now you’re both hurt and it’s because of me.” 

“Oh, Sunshine,” he said, reaching for her. “I’d follow you into hell and back. You know that, right?” 

“But I don’t _want_ to lead you into hell. I just want… I just want you… and Shaun... and to just… _be_. Is that really so much to ask?”

His heart stuttered and his mouth went dry. What was she saying? She wanted him to… what? Be a dad to Shaun? Could he wrap his head around that? The three of them as a family doing whatever the fuck it was so-called normal families did? It was beyond his experience. 

He’d have to deal with this particular revelation later. “It ain’t too much,” he said, carefully. “But—”

“I know, I know,” she said, leaning her head against his. “There’s so much that still stands in the way.”

He pulled her in for another kiss. He couldn’t fix this, couldn’t just give her back her son without the fight, but he could at least let her know how very loved she was. He didn’t know if it helped at all, but it was all he had. 

They were interrupted by the familiar clearing of a throat. Erica jumped and quickly turned. Preston’s eyes were open now, although somewhat unfocused and dazed. She scooted across the hallway to the Minuteman’s side and put a hand on his forehead in a gesture that was so motherly it made Hancock’s heart ache. 

“How are you?” she asked. 

“I… hurt all over,” he said. “My arms and legs feel like they weigh a ton.” He grimaced. “Erica… I’m sorry… I don’t think I can continue.” 

She nodded. “I understand. Maybe we should just call it. This was a terrible idea from the start.” 

Hancock could see defeat written all over her face, and it was too much for him. He got to his feet and twisted his torso, testing his back. Everything seemed to be in working order.

“Sunshine, you and me, we’re doing this thing. Dogmeat can stay with Preston and we’ll collect them once we’ve got that fucking chip.” 

She shook her head but stood up, and he could see the hope in her eyes. “John, we can’t. You both almost—” 

“But we didn’t. We’re still here. What’s one more fucking scar on a face like this? We’ll step more carefully and we’ll watch out for more assholes with fucking rocket launchers.” He gripped Erica by the shoulders. “If we took out Kellogg, we can down the rest of these motherfuckers, including the fucking Courser. We _can_.” 

Erica took a deep breath, and he could almost see her gathering her resolve. “Okay.” She turned to Preston. “Guess we’ll see you soon?” 

The Minuteman offered up a pained smile. “I’ll be here.” 

  
  
  


They continued working their way through the building. Hancock noted that the Gunners had been significantly thinned out at this point. They only found a few more stragglers and easily dispatched them. He couldn’t help but marvel at how well they worked as a team now, like they could read each other’s minds. 

After climbing a series of stairs, he knew they were nearly there. From the floor above, he could hear the Courser demanding information, the blubbering of terrified of Gunners… and the sounds of those same Gunners being mercilessly dispatched. Maybe Coursers could be saved, reminded of their humanity… but this one sounded anything but human. The cold voice demanding a password gave him chills, but also pissed him off. No love lost between him and Gunners, but the executions that were clearly happening just above him disturbed him. It was too much like the bullshit with Vic.

“You ready for this, Sunshine?” he murmured, gripping his shotgun. 

“Probably not,” she replied, “but since when has that made a difference?” She double-checked her pistol. 

“Here we go,” he said, and they headed up the stairs.


	21. Chapter 21

“You’ve been following me,” the Courser said in a cold, soft voice. A chill ran down Hancock’s back. 

He didn’t know exactly what he’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it. The Courser looked… normal. Like anyone you might meet on the street, scars and all. He knew full well that the synths were a perfect physical match for their human counterparts, but he’d expected the Courser to be different somehow. 

He quickly reminded himself of the Courser they’d seen in Kellogg’s memories. That one had looked mostly normal too, and spoke in a similar icy cadence, albeit with a deeper voice. That Courser’s eyes had been concealed by sunglasses, however. This one stared straight at them—and there was the difference. Those eyes were void of humanity. The dead Gunners scattered around the room were a mute testimony to the brutality of the man who stood before him. Whether through brainwashing or design, the Coursers were inhuman weapons, and Hancock doubted they either wanted to or could be saved. 

“We have been,” Erica answered, her voice matching the synth’s in coldness and softness. Hancock glanced at her, appraisingly. She hadn’t started shooting yet, and he would follow her lead. 

“Are you here for the synth?” the Courser asked. Erica’s eyes cut across to Hancock’s and he noticed the same confusion in them that he felt. Was the Courser referring to himself in the third person? 

“The… synth?” Erica said, her voice turning up slightly at the end, making the statement more ambiguous and hinting at a question.

“If you aren’t here for the synth, then you are here for me,” the Courser replied, all business. Hancock was baffled now. Who was this other synth the Courser was referring to? Were they about to get ambushed? His eyes darted around, spotting nothing but dead Gunners. Although… _there! In that window!_ Had he spotted a movement? He wanted to somehow let Erica know, but her attention was, wisely, focused entirely on the Courser. He cursed himself silently for letting his own attention drift. “What do you want?” the Courser asked, his voice even quieter than before. 

“I want my son,” Erica said, her voice deadly. “I’m sorry.” The .44 in her hands bucked, and a red bloom spread across the Courser’s front. Before she could finish the job, however, the Courser suddenly vanished. 

She howled in frustration, but Hancock had seen the slight motion of the Courser’s hand. Unlike Kellogg, though, the Courser was faster, and now had the advantage.

“Erica,” he shouted. “Stealth Boy! He’s still here! He’s invisible!” 

At that moment, blue light flashed, glancing off of Erica’s shoulder as she ducked to one side. Hancock’s breath caught. If she hadn’t moved in that instant, it would have been a perfect headshot. He pulled his Jet canister from his jacket and took a hit, looking for any kind of advantage he could get as he tried to zero in on where the laser beam had come from. Rather than firing blindly, he turned his shotgun around and swung it like a club. Advancing, he swung the gun back and forth, hoping for it to connect. The Jet’s effects also allowed him to dart from side to side quickly, making him a more challenging target. He only hoped that Erica would follow his lead and do the same. 

The light flashed again, this time grazing the sleeve of his battered coat. The blast had emerged from nearly right in front of him, and now he realized there was a… shimmering to the air. He didn’t know how Stealth Boys worked, but it seemed like they created some sort of force around their users that disrupted vision. His hearing might have taken a beating over the last several weeks, but there was nothing wrong with his eyes. 

Erica was turning in circles, waving her gun around wildly. She clearly hadn’t noticed the shimmering air and was terrified to shoot. For just a moment, she froze—apparently in fear and indecision. Before Hancock could open his mouth to warn her, the blue light flashed again. This time, it was a direct hit to Erica’s chest and, to his horror, she crumpled. 

Hancock roared in fury. If he was going to go feral, now was the fucking time. His vision, enhanced by the Jet, trained in an instant on the shimmering patch of air that was now moving toward the door. He spun the shotgun back around and unloaded both barrels. Red blood, human blood, flew, spattering against the walls, and the Courser flickered back into sight, one leg buckled beneath him. He glared at Hancock, a hint of fear finally in the synth’s eyes. 

Teeth bared, Hancock approached the wounded Courser mercilessly, trained fingers quickly reloading his gun as he stalked. Without another word, the gun came back down, he pulled the trigger, and the Courser’s head vanished in a spray of blood, bone, and brain matter—and one glint of metal that went flying before striking the wall and dropping to the floor. 

Noting where the chip landed, Hancock immediately turned and ran back to where Erica lay. He fell to his knees next to her and placed a hand on her chest. 

Nothing. 

 _Oh no oh no oh fuck no_ , his brain babbled at him incoherently. Was he too late? If so, he should have just let the Courser kill him too. It would have been kinder. He yanked at the pack, his fingers numb with terror, stumbling with the buckles. Why didn’t they have these fucking things more easily accessible? He cursed himself for being such an idiot. Of course he had the fucking _Jet_ in his pocket, but a Stimpak? How fucking stupid could he get? 

Finally the pack fell open, revealing its contents—including the stash of chems. He pulled a Stimpak out and punched it into her chest, through the fabric of her shirt. A moment later, he checked again for a pulse. 

Still nothing. 

This time he screamed in horror, dropping the spent Stimpak. No. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t how it ended. They had the motherfucking chip. He had killed a fucking _Courser_. It couldn’t be for nothing. It just couldn’t. 

 _Your karma finally caught up to you_ , an evil voice in his brain spoke. _Did you really think you would be allowed to live happily ever after with the woman you love? After everything you’ve done? After letting the ghouls of Diamond City die on your watch? How could you be so stupid?_  

“No,” he moaned. “Shut up, shut up. Fuck you.” He wanted to roll into a ball and just shriek until he died, but he couldn’t give up yet. He couldn’t. There had to be something. She didn’t appear injured, not even burned. It was like the laser had stopped her heart, but surely there was something that could get it going again. It felt like an age had elapsed since he saw her fall, but it had only been seconds. If he could just think of something….

He pulled out their entire chem stash as well as the crap in his pockets. His eyes darted over the mess of chems on the ground until one caught his eye—the double-barreled syringe of Psycho. He didn’t know what the fuck was in Psycho, but it made you vicious, brutal, powerful… and damn near invincible. 

He hesitated for only a moment. If this worked, she would fucking kill him—he’d never seen her use a chem before, not even Jet—but oh it would be so fucking worth it, if she was the last thing he saw when the lights went out. 

“Forgive me, Sunshine,” he rasped, then grabbed her arm and injected a full dose of the chem into her vein. 

The drug’s effect was nearly immediate, and Erica suddenly bucked up, her back arching painfully, a gasp tearing through her. Her eyes opened wide, pupils so dilated that her eyes appeared nearly as black as his, and a hoarse, blood-curdling shriek escaped her mouth. She jerked and flailed, retching, and Hancock pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly to him. Maybe she would puke. He didn’t care. Her entire body thrashed and trembled, and she fought mindlessly against him. 

“It’s okay, Sunshine, it’s okay,” he murmured, his hand pressing against her back as she thrummed like a live wire. His own voice trembled as well. He had done it—he had saved her. It was nearly impossible to believe. It took everything he had to hold onto her, though; the Psycho flowing through her bloodstream made her ridiculously strong. In the initial moments after a dose, all rational thought left a person. He had seen it before, and it could be frightening. He just needed to keep her safe for a few minutes longer until the first burst wore off. 

She pummelled against him, and he didn’t care. His whole body shook, practically in tandem with Erica’s, his relief pouring through him and nearly drowning him. Finally, he could feel her start to come down, until she slumped in his arms, sobbing. 

“Shhhhh,” he whispered in her ear. He gently moved a lock of her shorter hair to the side and kissed her temple. She trembled against him, and her tears were wet against his neck. He held her all the tighter, hands massaging her back, trying to guide her through the let-down of the chem. Psycho was a wild ride, all right. It would work in a pinch, but he preferred the gentler ride of Mentants or Jet. Her body slowly relaxed and her sobs wound down until she hitched a few more times and stopped, her breath settling into a more normal pattern. 

“John,” she groaned, her voice as raspy as his. He’d give her some water in a moment. That shriek must have torn the hell out of her throat. “What the hell happened?” 

“He hit you square in the chest. Must have… must have stopped your heart.” God, he could barely get the words out. His own heart pounded painfully. “I didn’t know what to do, the Stimpak didn’t work, I was so fucking scared….” 

She pulled back slightly to look at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was a mess of sweat and snot and tears. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“I… I gave you some Psycho. It was the only thing I could think of.” He waited for her reaction, terrified. 

“Psycho?” she said, nearly under her breath. “Jesus Christ.” She licked dry lips, and her eyes darted around the room for a moment. She wiped her face with her hand then wiped her hand on her jeans, leaving a smear of moisture. She inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath. “The Courser….” 

“He’s dead,” Hancock said. “I got him. I saw the chip go flying and where it landed, but…” 

“Thank you. Oh my god, thank you,” she said and kissed him, her hands entwined around his neck, pulling him as close to her as possible.


	22. Chapter 22

He could have stayed exactly where he was, clutching Erica to his chest and kissing her, for hours, but a light tapping sound eventually worked its way into his consciousness. He looked up, wary of further danger, and spotted movement behind the window he had noticed earlier. 

There was someone there. 

“Sunshine,” he whispered. “Look.” 

She followed his gaze. The person, whoever it was, gestured at them to come closer. 

“Do you think it’s safe?” she asked in a low voice. 

“Don’t see why not,” he murmured and got to his feet. Erica followed, still somewhat wobby. 

“Oh—” She sat back down again quickly, and he squatted next to her. 

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“Light-headed,” she said, holding her head in her hands. 

“Okay, you stay here then. I’ll check it out.” He squeezed her shoulder, then moved cautiously toward the window. 

A young woman stood there, bright blue eyes anxious. She was speaking to him, but between the thick pane of glass and his damaged hearing, he was having trouble deciphering the words. He studied her for a moment. She didn’t _look_ dangerous, but looks could be deceiving. _Take him for instance_ , he thought with an inner smirk. 

He spotted the door that led to the small room where the woman was apparently trapped. A monitor was mounted to the wall next to it. He approached it, but quickly realized it was password protected. 

 _Password._  

This was what the Courser had been trying to get out of the Gunners he had murdered. Funny, to think of Gunners being _murdered_. Hancock had killed God only knew how many Gunners over the years and had certainly never thought of those killings as murder—more like self-defense. But no question, the Courser had killed these men in cold blood. He had to chuckle to himself. Imagine, empathy for Gunners. Well, he’d always taken a “live and let live” approach. As long as people left him and his alone, he was perfectly happy to leave them to their own devices. 

Had the Courser and the Gunners both been trying to get to this woman? He thought it likely. And, he thought, perhaps this was the synth the Courser had alluded to. A runaway synth, sought after by the Courser on behalf of the Institute and Gunners on behalf of… the slave trade, probably. He grimaced, his previous empathy for the dead men fading fast. Slavers were the lowest of the low. Disgusting business that. He didn’t do business with anyone associated with slavers, and he forbid Daisy and KL-E-0 from working with them either, not that Daisy would, of course, but it was better to just have it laid out in stone. 

He thought it likely that this woman was harmless, but how was he going to get her out of there? Maybe one of the dead Gunners had the password tucked away…. 

She was still gesturing to him, and appeared to be pointing somewhere behind him. He turned to look. A staircase leading up to a door, an elevator that didn’t appear to be functioning… and a half-buried toolbox. Well, why not? 

He went for the box and quickly rummaged through its contents: some random junk, a half-filled Jet canister (jackpot!), some shotgun shells that he slipped into his pocket, and a crumpled piece of paper, which he carefully unfolded. Written in faded pencil was a random collection of letters, numbers, and symbols. Must be the password. Good thing—he never would have figured out this mess. 

Back at the terminal, he carefully typed in the password, hit enter, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door slid open. The woman jogged over to the door, and gave him an appraising once-over. Her eyes held curiosity, but no fear or revulsion. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t know how I was going to get out of this mess.” 

“Hey, you’re welcome, but—who are you?”

“I’m K1—” She interrupted herself and shook her head. “No. No more of that. I’m Jenny.”

K1… did that mean? “Where do you come from, Jenny?” he asked. 

“Well, the Institute, originally. I… I ran away. I’ve been trying to make something for myself up here, but then I ran into these men. They offered to help, but then I realized they actually wanted to sell me. I already freed myself from one bad situation, so I wasn’t really eager to get myself into another one, you know?” 

He gritted his teeth. “I do,” he said, his voice quiet but angry. 

“Then the Institute sent one of their Coursers after me. Of course.” She sighed. “I didn’t know which was worse. To be caught by these men or the Courser. Either way, I’d be back in slavery.” She shuddered. “And then you guys came out of nowhere. To tell the truth, I was afraid to root for you. Is… is your... friend... okay?” She gestured to where Erica was sitting, holding her head in her hands. 

Erica raised her head. “I’m okay, Jenny. I’m just… exhausted.” She looked at the other woman for a moment. “You escaped the Institute,” she said slowly. “How did you get out? Did you teleport?”

The synth shook her head slowly. “I… I know how crazy this sounds, but I actually can’t remember. I remember being in the Institute, and then I remember being up here. The whole in between part is just… gone.” 

“Valentine has said the same thing,” Hancock said. “There’s something they do, some kind of failsafe, that keeps synths from revealing the location of the Institute and how to get in and out. But Sunshine, we already know how to get in. Teleportation. It’s why we’re here.”

She nodded. “I know. I’m still hoping there’s something easier. I’d rather not have to make a trip back out to the Glowing Sea again, you know?”

He did. He’d put the thought out of his head for now, but eventually they were going to have to deal with that reality. 

Erica looked up at Jenny. “Why don’t you come with us? We’re headed back to a group that’s actually dedicated to helping people like you.”

Jenny shook her head frantically. “No! No—I can’t… I can’t rely on other people. I have to make it out here on my own. It’s the only way.”

Hancock put his hand on Jenny’s shoulder. She flinched slightly but didn’t move away from him; it was apparent that she was not afraid of him. He doubted that she had ever been touched kindly in her entire existence. “Jenny, you don’t have to do that. Nobody makes it out here without some kindness and friends. Not even those of us who’ve lived out here our whole lives. At least talk to these people. See what they can do for you. We’re already going that way.” 

Jenny was clearly torn. “I… I don’t know…” 

Erica slowly stood up. Hancock jumped to her and offered her his arm. She carefully moved toward Jenny. 

“Jenny, I’m new to the Commonwealth too,” Erica said. “I wasn’t born here.”

“Are you a synth too?” Jenny asked, her voice breathless. 

“No,” Erica answered. “That’s… a long story. But the point is, I would never have made it this far without an awful lot of help. You saw what happened just now. Going it alone… that’s a death sentence. You didn’t escape the Institute just to die out here.” 

Jenny stared at the floor for a moment in silence before finally nodding. “Okay then. You’re right. I’ll meet these friends of yours. Since… since you’re heading that way anyway.” 

Erica offered her a wan smile. “Good. Especially since I’m going to need an awful lot of help getting back. John? I need to sit down again.” 

“You got it, Sunshine. We’ll take it slow.” He helped her back down and then headed to the doorway where the Courser’s body was lying. After a quick search, he found the chip where it had landed, tucked it in his pocket, and then sat down next to her until she was ready to move again.

  
  
  
  


The small group slowly worked their way back through the building, taking frequent breaks for Erica to recover. Jenny shuddered periodically at the dead Gunners scattered around, but didn’t say a word. Preston and Dogmeat were right where they had left them. When they approached, the Minuteman jumped to his feet. Hancock was glad to see it. He hated to admit it, but he had been worried about the guy. 

“You’re back!” he said with a quick glance at Jenny. “Did you… succeed?”

Hancock reached into his pocket and pulled out the chip. “I’d say so, yes.”

Preston smiled and held out a hand to Jenny. “Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. Pleased to meet you.” Hancock couldn’t help himself and rolled his eyes at the formal introduction. 

Jenny cautiously touched her hand to Preston’s. “I’m… Jenny. I’m, uh. Tagging along.” 

“She’s an escapee from the Institute,” Erica provided. “Both the Gunners and the Courser were on her case. We’re going to introduce her to the Railroad so they can help her get settled.” She turned to Jenny. “I have to ask—Jenny, have you seen a young boy at the Institute? I’m not sure what age, but maybe about ten?”

Jenny paused. “Well, several of the scientists have kids, so I’ve seen quite a few kids there. A young boy about ten…” She considered the question. “There was one who doesn’t seem to… he followed Father and Dr. Li around a lot, but they definitely weren’t his parents. Curly dark brown hair, about ten… yes, I think I know who you’re talking about. But… how did you know?”

Erica turned to Hancock, her eyes desperate. 

“I know, Sunshine,” he said. “It sounds like he’s at least safe. We’ll get there.” He helped her back up again. “In the meantime, let’s get the fuck out of here, though. Okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My version of Jenny is a bit more sensible than in-game Jenny.


	23. Chapter 23

The small group plodded along the banks of the river as the sun slowly rose, staining the water pink. A cold rain steadily fell. The Bunker Hill monument loomed slightly to the north as they approached the bridge that would take them back downtown. 

“Wish this rain would let up,” Preston commented, and the rest of the group groaned. 

“Preston, we know the weather fucking sucks, but commenting on it every ten minutes ain’t gonna improve it none,” Hancock growled. 

“Oh, sorry,” Preston muttered, chagrined. 

“John, I need another break,” Erica murmured. She’d been struggling for a while. Hancock knew she needed a solid meal and sleep, but he wasn’t in a position to provide either at the moment, and it was frustrating as hell. They’d found a small cache of supplies on their way out, so she at least had some water and some brahmin jerky to gnaw on, but it wasn’t enough. He’d considered heading to Bunker Hill instead, but judged it to be about the same distance as the church and, therefore, a wash. May as well actually get where they needed to go. If Preston would just stop bitching about the goddamn rain….

They stopped, and Erica slid to ground. Her jeans were still damp from the last break she’d taken, but there wasn’t much that could be done about that either. Hancock offered her a can of purified water from their pack, which he was now carrying. She popped the top and drank, then closed her eyes for a moment. After a short rest, the group continued their slow trudge through the streets of Boston. 

  
  
  
  


“Psycho?” Dr. Carrington said, with a look of disbelief. Erica was finally sleeping on a cot nearby, and Hancock was discussing her current situation with the Railroad’s doctor. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Hancock said, raising his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “The Stimpak didn’t work. I would’ve lost her. I had to try something.” 

The doctor tapped his front teeth with his pen. “It does actually make sense in a way,” he said in his precise and formal way of speaking. “The electric shock striking so close to her heart must have interrupted her body’s own electrical patterns. Before the war, chest compressions or electrical devices were used to restart a stopped heart. They even taught non-medical personnel to use these techniques. The electrical devices are hard to find these days since they’ve mostly been scavenged for parts, but I can teach you the chest compression technique, if you’d like.” This information sounded valuable, and Hancock nodded. 

“Adrenaline can also be used to restart a heart,” Carrington continued, “but it wasn’t being used anymore because of the damage it can do to the brain. There’s no question that Psycho stimulates the body to produce adrenaline, so I can see why it worked.” He paused, considering. “This is actually an incredibly helpful finding. We’ll have to get the word out that doctors should keep at least one dose of Psycho on hand… especially if we’re going to be going up against the Institute. Or other organizations that rely on laser-type weapons,” he added darkly. 

Hancock’s heart raced. One thing that Carrington had said jumped out at him. “Did I… did I hurt her, giving her the Psycho?” he asked. “Because of the adrenaline?”

“No, no,” Carrington said, almost dismissively. “The Psycho doesn’t contain any adrenaline itself—it stimulates the body to produce its own adrenaline. Over time, yes, the effects could be devastating. But as a one-time dose in someone who doesn’t normally use it… I don’t believe any permanent damage has been done. She’s clearly physically exhausted. Coming down off the chem is difficult on the body.” He looked sternly at Hancock. “I don’t recommend using Psycho recreationally, Mayor.” 

Hancock shook his head. “Ain’t my ride of choice. Don’t worry about me. Or Erica. I ain’t never seen her use anything just for the fun of it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Desdemona approach Carrington’s corner of the room, Preston in tow. “Looks like I’m about to be in demand,” Hancock muttered under his breath. Carrington offered up a sly smile, turned back to his chemistry station, and began tearing apart a Psycho syringe.

“Mayor,” Desdemona said, her voice curt. 

“Des,” Hancock replied with a head nod. 

“I’m hearing rumors about a battle that took place at Greenetech Genetics?” 

Hancock cut his eyes across to Preston. He’d been hoping to wait on this particular conversation until Erica woke up, but apparently Preston just couldn’t keep his yap shut. He sighed. 

“Yeah, you heard correctly. That was us.” 

“This gentleman says you found a Courser chip,” Desdemona said, her eyes narrowed. 

“We did. Look, this is Erica’s fight, and I kinda wanted to wait until—”

“Hand it over,” Desdemona insisted, cutting him off. “Tinker Tom can analyze it.”

“Slow down, there, Des,” Hancock said, his own tone becoming more authoritative. Maybe she was the leader of the Railroad, but she was talking to the Mayor of Goodneighbor after all, the one who made it possible for her group to run operations in the Commonwealth. It wouldn’t hurt her to remember that. “Like I said, I’m waiting until Erica is awake and ready. This is her son we’re talking about, after all.” 

Desdemona’s lips pressed together until they all but disappeared. “I don’t mind providing hospitality and medical services, as long as I know we’re on the same side,” she said. “Don’t give me reason to think otherwise.”

“Goddammit, Des…” Hancock began, his voice rising. He was exhausted too, after all, and he hadn’t had a chance to rest yet either. Making sure Erica was safe had been his top priority. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Preston said, interrupting both. “Des, just wait a little bit longer. I promise we aren’t going to leave without addressing the chip. Erica needs that code just as much as you do. Mayor, why don’t you catch a quick nap? You look wiped.”

Hancock ran his hands across his face. Could he really rest right now? He felt responsible for everything that happened, everything that would happen, and everyone in this group. While technically a success, the trip had nearly been a disaster, yet another close call for the woman he loved—and far too close for comfort this time. Honestly, he was afraid to close his eyes and let her out of his sight even for a moment. He shook his head. Staying awake for the rest of his life wasn’t exactly an option. He could recognize that he was being irrational, but it was impossible to stop the thought that the second he closed his eyes something horrible would happen. 

Preston clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Get some sleep, Mayor. Please? Nothing bad will happen here. I promise.” 

Hancock realized that the Minuteman understood the thoughts that were tormenting him all too well. He recalled Preston’s own challenges, what he had been through. Sighing, he nodded. It was hard to miss the relief in Preston’s dark brown eyes. Just as Hancock had been keeping a close eye on Erica, Preston had been keeping a close eye on the entire small group. Once Hancock recognized it, it was hard to dismiss. Once again, Preston had taken it upon himself to save the world—or at least their one tiny corner of it. 

Pulling another cot up next to Erica’s, he finally doffed his hat as well as his damp and damaged coat and laid down. Dogmeat wuffed and then jumped up onto the cot, turning a couple times before settling at his feet. Hancock closed his eyes and drifted into an exhausted sleep. 

  
  
  
  


He wasn’t sure how long he had slept, but slowly the sound of voices floated into his consciousness. Erica’s in particular helped facilitate his return to the waking world. 

He sat up on the cot and stretched, looking around the room. Erica, Desdemona, Glory, and Jenny were seated on couches, discussing something with great seriousness. Preston was now lightly snoring on the cot next to him. Dogmeat was near the small cooking station where Drummer Boy was cooking something that smelled slightly burned. The dog’s tail wagged, and as Hancock watched, Drummer Boy surreptitiously snuck Dogmeat a piece of whatever he was cooking. Hancock’s lips quirked into a sideways smile at the sight. 

Another familiar face was typing at one of the monitors across the room. Deacon had returned. Hancock wondered briefly where the spy had disappeared to and why he was now back. He swung his legs around and stood up, careful not to wake the sleeping Preston. 

Wandering over to the couches, he was stopped briefly by Drummer Boy, who offered him a steaming mug of dark liquid. Hancock cautiously took a sip, and smiled at the bitter taste of the coffee.  _ Perfect.  _

Erica looked up at him as he approached and smiled widely, the corners of her gray eyes crinkling. Her hair was tousled and tangled, and she kept brushing it out of her eyes. He was relieved to see that she looked much better after getting some real sleep. She had a plate in her lap with a few last traces of what appeared to be scrambled mirelurk and some stewed tatos. A half-full mug of coffee sat on the table next to her. 

Coming up behind her, he leaned over, nuzzling her neck. “Good morning, Sunshine,” he murmured, kissing her jawline. Her hand crept up around his neck. 

“Good morning, love,” she replied and turned slightly to kiss him on the mouth. He tasted the tatos and coffee on her breath, and it made him hungry for more. Aware of the others seated nearby (who were now averting their eyes), he stood back up. He’d have to wait until they got back to Goodneighbor, but what else was new? Desdemona moved over slightly to make room, and he stepped over the back of the couch and settled in next to Erica. She leaned into him, and he put his arm around her. 

“Are we finally able to discuss this chip?” Desdemona asked acerbically. “Or do we now have to wait until the Minuteman wakes up?”

Erica smiled. “No, I think now is good,” she replied. Hancock reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the shiny bit of metal. He offered it to Desdemona who all but snatched it out of his hand. She turned it this way and that, studying it, her eyes gleaming. It was the happiest Hancock had ever seen her, and he completely understood. The chip wasn’t just a step closer to Erica’s son; it was also a step closer to infiltrating the Institute—the one goal that had eluded the Railroad for their entire existence. Their victory was also Desdemona’s victory. 

“Tom!” Desdemona called back over her shoulder. Tinker Tom, who had currently been, well, tinkering at his workstation looked up. “We have a Courser chip! Ready to take a crack at it?” The man crossed the room quickly, practically bouncing off other people in his exuberance, causing other Railroad agents to look up at him in either annoyance or amusement. He snatched the chip out of Desdemona’s hands. 

“Hey there, little chip!” he crooned, holding it up to the light as though its secrets were written on the outer surfaces. “Time to make you sing!” Dashing back over to his computer, he fiddled with the chip, hooking it up so that it would interface with his system. The group watched, anxious, as he cajoled and coaxed his computer and the chip, trying to convince it to give up the goods. 

When it was obvious that the cracking of the code wasn’t going to be an immediate thing, Desdemona turned back to Hancock and Erica. “I wanted to properly thank both of you for convincing Jenny to come to us.” Jenny nodded and looked slightly uncomfortable. “We think we have a good place for her to stay for now, until we can get her fully set up with a new identity. Later today, Glory will be accompanying her to Ticonderoga.” The woman with the white hair nodded curtly. 

“That sounds good,” Erica said. “I hope we see you again, Jenny.” 

“Me too,” Jenny said. 

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed, and then Tom crowed from across the room. “I got it, Des! I got it!”

Hancock and Erica’s eyes met. There was no more putting it off. They both knew that Erica had to return to the Glowing Sea, and Hancock had no idea how they were going to pull it off—only that this time, come hell or high water, he was going with her. 


	24. Chapter 24

The relief that swelled up in Hancock’s chest at the familiar neon sign marking the entrance of Goodneighbor was short-lived. Anxious shouts greeted their arrival, and he and Erica were quickly pulled to the side as Preston was ushered away to check on his Minutemen. 

“What the hell’s going on, Fahr?” Hancock asked, irritated. He’d hoped to spend some quiet time with Erica before facing the reality of the Glowing Sea, but apparently that was not going to be the case. 

“We got a problem,” Fahr said, her face inscrutable as she led them around the corner and toward the Memory Den. Hancock and Erica exchanged worried glances. They’d only been gone a couple days. What could have gone so wrong in that time? He was honestly afraid to even guess. 

As they entered the Den, they were surprised to find it mostly deserted. Irma wasn’t in her usual place, lording it over her charges from her chaise lounge, and even Kent had managed to find somewhere else to be. Fahrenheit led them down the stairs to Dr. Amari’s workspace, and Hancock’s fear doubled. 

They stepped through the door and encountered a makeshift hospital. Haylen sat next to a cot, holding the hand of MacCready, who lay motionless, eyes closed. Erica gasped. 

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Hancock breathed, and they both darted over. 

“Haylen,” Erica said, turning to the scribe. “What the hell happened?” 

Haylen looked up, worry and strain written across her kind features. “It was an ambush. We were set up. They had to know we were coming.”

“Who, Haylen? Who knew you were coming?”

“Gunners,” Haylen whispered. 

“Aw, fuck,” Hancock said, and slumped into a second nearby chair. 

“John, what is going on?” Erica said, panic rising in her voice. 

He wasn’t sure how much to tell her. It wasn’t his story, but this seemed like need-to-know information now. “Sunshine, Mac here used to run with the Gunners. He caught on pretty quick that they were a bunch of sociopaths and he didn’t belong there, but once you’re in, it’s hard to get out. He stays here because we don’t stand for that kinda shit here in Goodneighbor, and the Gunners don’t want to start nothing they can’t finish by attacking us directly. But they ain’t never forgiven him for bailing and they like to periodically remind him. Makes it hard for him to take merc jobs in the Commonwealth.” He turned to Haylen. “Where were you guys when this happened?”

“We were over by that damn sewer entrance,” Haylen said. Hancock couldn’t help but notice her gentle touch as she stroked MacCready’s hand. “I’d thought of a possible way to incapacitate the synth without doing any real damage, and once we had Amari’s blessing that it should work, we went out to try it. I was about halfway down the ladder when the Gunners attacked. They… they were waiting for us.”

“Haylen, how bad is he?” Erica murmured. 

“He… he was out in the open helping me down. They shot him… in the back… several times….”

“Jesus Christ,” Hancock said, putting his hands over his face. 

Just then, Amari entered the room. “John,” she said, “Thank goodness you’re back.” 

He looked up again, features drawn. “How bad is it, Elena? I need to know.” 

The doctor came over and checked several of the monitors she had hooked to the unconscious MacCready. “I’m hopeful, but it’s quite serious. Haylen here acted quite fast, and between her and some Diamond City guards who heard the gunshots, they were able to chase off the Gunners. Stimpaks kept him alive and I was able to remove the slugs, but his lungs are damaged, possibly his heart too. I just don’t know, and I need access to some kind of imaging equipment.” She threw her hands in the air helplessly. “John, my specialty is the brain. I’m not a trauma surgeon. With everything happening right now… I need some kind of help.”

Erica moved over to Haylen, who was now wiping away tears and took the other woman into her arms. She looked at Hancock, desperate. “John… this is… this is my fault.” 

“No, Sunshine,” he said. “Don’t even think that. The Gunners… they’ve been after Mac for a while now. They just… had a lucky break.” 

Haylen raised her head, openly crying now. “There’s more. When we were… fighting off the Gunners… he got away.”

Hancock felt all the blood drain from his face. “Who, Haylen? Who got away?” _Please don’t say it_ … he thought. _Please don’t say_ ….

“Valentine,” Haylen said. “Or Kellogg. Or whatever the hell he’s called.” 

“Oh fuck me,” Hancock said, dropping his head into his hands once more. 

  
  
  
  


They had reconvened in the former VIP room at the Third Rail. It was a much smaller group this time: Hancock, Erica, Fahrenheit, Haylen, and Preston. MacCready’s absence was felt throughout the room, and Hancock couldn’t help but notice Haylen’s small glances toward the couch where MacCready had been lounging at their last meeting. Those two definitely had something going, and he was surprised to find his heart going out to the Brotherhood scribe. He knew far too well how it was to see someone you cared for that deeply have a close brush with death right in front of you, the helplessness and terror of that moment. Erica sat next to Haylen and put the occasional hand on her arm or shoulder. It occurred to Hancock that Erica had been witness to a few of his close calls at this point as well and could also empathize with Haylen. What a strange world they lived in, to have a Brotherhood scribe of all people as a close ally. 

“So it’s pretty clear that Kellogg is probably heading south, toward the Glowing Sea and Virgil,” Fahrenheit was saying. “He must have set up the Gunners as a distraction. In Nick’s body, he can withstand the radiation—”

“—And Nick probably doesn’t have to sleep.” Preston finished. 

“He doesn’t have to sleep per se,” Hancock said, “but he does have to do occasional maintenance cycles, which are kind of like sleeping, but shorter. So he can’t just make the run straight through. Nick also runs diagnostic checks on himself a couple times a day. I don’t know if Kellogg has been doing that or if they run automatically, but if he’s been neglecting diagnostics, that might give us a slight edge.” 

Erica spoke up. “Haylen, when did he start running? When did all this happen?” 

“Earlier today,” the scribe said. “This morning.” 

“He’s got a several-hour head start, but it’s gonna take him some time to get there,” Hancock said. “Shit’s gonna get in his way, slow him down some. We can put a call out on the radio, notify the settlements closest to the Sea—like Somerville, places he might have to pass by. Have them put up a fight.” 

Preston leaned in, shaking his head. “Mayor, Somerville is just a group of farmers. What you’re asking of them… I can’t get any Minutemen down there fast enough to help. They’ll be slaughtered.” 

“We gotta slow him down, Preston!” Hancock said, his voice rising. “If he gets to Virgil before we do….” 

“We’re screwed,” Erica said, her face white except for the yellowish shadows below her eyes. “There’s no way we can catch up to him. It’s a lost cause. All of this… it’s been for nothing.” 

Haylen straightened up and wiped her face. “It’s not, Erica. We have something he doesn’t.” Everyone turned and looked at the scribe. “We can get a vertibird. We can be down there in an hour or two.”

Hope started to bloom in Erica’s face. “Oh my God, Haylen. Do you really think we can get one?”

Haylen shrugged. “As far as Maxson and anyone else knows, we’re looking for Danse right now. Last time we saw him we were in the Sea anyway. It makes sense to check there.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t fly in there,” Fahrenheit said with a frown.

“It’s not… ideal,” Haylen said. “Visibility is crap and the radiation fucks with your instruments. But we can try. We’ll just have to go kind of low and slow.” 

“Do you know how to fly?” Preston asked. 

“I do,” Haylen said. “It’s part of Brotherhood basic training.” 

“I don’t like this,” Hancock said with a frown. “No offense Haylen, but Brotherhood pilots crash more than they land.” 

Haylen huffed. “That’s just not true, John. We’ve had a couple accidents when pilots weren’t well-trained and really shouldn’t have been flying in the first place, but it’s not like we have some endless supply of vertibirds. We’re not going to waste them. I can handle this.” She checked one of the pouches sewed to her sweater. “I still have a couple signal grenades. We’ll grab our armor, call a ‘bird and head south. If Virgil knows Kellogg is on the way, maybe we can convince him to come with us.”

“I’ll convince him,” Hancock growled. Erica and Haylen looked at each other, and he didn’t like what he saw on their faces. “Erica, don’t you even start.” 

“John,” Erica said, “Haylen and I have armor. You don’t.”

“I’m immune to the radiation, Erica, remember? I’ll be fine.”

“But if we run into another deathclaw….” 

“I’ll tear the fucker apart with my bare hands,” he said, his voice beginning to rise. “You ain’t going back out there without me. I don’t care if I have to run across the motherfucking Commonwealth chasing your goddamn shadow!” He was standing, hands pressed into the surface of the table, nearly yelling.

Erica stood too. “No! You can’t come with us! It’s too dangerous, and I won’t let you!” Tears stood in her bright gray eyes, which flashed like lightning. Everyone else watched the couple, worry hanging heavy over the table.

“Dammit, Erica—” he started.

“Don’t you understand? With no armor, a deathclaw will tear you apart! I can’t… I can’t….” Erica sat down hard again on the chair, covering her face with her hands as she descended into sobs. “I can’t see that, John,” she choked out. “I can’t. I’ve lost too much.” The room was silent, nobody willing to meet anyone else’s eyes.

He crouched next to her. “Oh, Sunshine,” he murmured. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly why I need to go. That won’t happen. If a deathclaw comes… shit, I’ll just get behind you. And it’s not like deathclaws are only in the Sea. We could come across one at any time.” He wrapped his arms around her and she cried into his shoulder. “It’s a dangerous fucking world. We can’t just hide behind the walls. We ain’t Diamond City. The risk is real, but it’s worth it to protect the people we love.” He pressed his wrecked lips against her hair. “I told you I’d follow you to hell and back. This is where I prove it.” Her hands slid up his arms to her shoulders. She raised her face to his and kissed him. 

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered against his mouth. 

“You won’t,” he said. “I’ll check in with K-L-E0 before we go, get some armor under my coat. I hate wearing it, it fucking itches, but for you I’ll do it.”

She laughed through her tears. “I guess it will have to do. But John… I’m holding you to it. A deathclaw comes, you hide. Don’t play the hero. Please.” 

“Well, it’ll be hard,” he said with a half smile. “You know how I love to impress you.” He lifted his head. “Haylen, looks like it’s decided. Now… what’s that idea you had about how to incapacitate Kellogg?”


	25. Chapter 25

Hancock adamantly refused to disguise himself in one of the two sets of power armor. After a brief squabble, Haylen left on her own to set off a summoning grenade and convince the pilot to turn the ‘bird over to her. Hancock fully recognized that his pride was making the whole situation more challenging, but the idea of wearing an item so associated with the Brotherhood of Steel made his skin crawl. Erica had tried to argue the point with him, and even while he could see that he was frustrating her, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. The two glared at each other angrily, and Hancock was surprised by the gratitude he felt toward Haylen when she settled the situation by volunteering to deal with it herself. She’d drop the pilot back at the Cambridge police station then head back to the Commons to pick them up. With Swan no longer a threat, it was the easiest place within Boston for a vertibird to set down. 

In the meantime, Hancock arranged with KL-E-0 for a set of combat armor that he would wear under his usual clothing. As he suspected, it itched and did nothing to improve his mood. He hated everything about this trip and wished there were any way to solve all of this without having to travel into the damn sea. Knowing that they were now trying to beat Kellogg, who had a significant lead and the advantage of Valentine’s synth body, did nothing to help. Not to mention that he was worried sick about MacCready. He considered the young mercenary a close friend and felt both guilt and anger at the fact that he had been unable to keep his promise to protect him from the Gunners until they could come up with a good solution. The Gunners were too big a group to simply take on and eliminate, but now he recognized that it might have to come to that. 

Kellogg had clearly found a way to outsmart all of them, and that fact most of all scared the shit out of them. It felt very much like they were now about to walk into yet another trap, but once again, he felt powerless to stop it. 

Finally, the signal came across Erica’s Pip-Boy that Haylen was nearly to the Commons and they should head in that direction. Erica disliked wearing the Pip-Boy. Her primary complaint so far had been that it was heavy and she had developed a bruise where the device pressed against the joint of her thumb, but Hancock suspected it had more to do with the fact that the thing had come from that cursed Vault where her dead husband still lay, a place Kellogg had infiltrated to steal her child. It was obviously a symbol of everything that had gone wrong for her, and he didn’t blame her in the least for wanting to get rid of it. Unfortunately, that didn’t change the fact that the damn thing was dead useful as a communication device, map, and radiation monitor as they prepared to head into the hell of the Glowing Sea. 

Erica stepped up into the power armor and it sealed shut around her (Haylen had taken her own set when she went to call the vertibird). Hancock looked up at her in it—all signs of Erica were hidden away behind layers of metal and electronics, and it made him nervous. Even her voice sounded strange through the filter. If it kept her safe, though… well, he could deal with it. As long as he wasn’t the one strapped into it.

They set out toward the Commons and arrived, just as Haylen was landing. They swung themselves aboard and the ‘bird took off. Hancock watched, his heart in his throat, as the Commonwealth sped past below them. 

  
  
  
  


A half an hour later, they were at the edge of the Glowing Sea. It was late afternoon and while it would be a couple hours still until the sun set, the quality of the light combined with the glow up ahead gave everything a surreal tint. He could now feel the waves of radiation coming off the Sea. The euphoric, almost high feeling it gave him was similar to what he experienced during a good radstorm. If this was the edge of the Sea… what would it feel like when they approached the epicenter where the radiation was highest? He hoped he wouldn’t just succumb to the bliss of the rads. He needed to stay alert, focused, ready for anything. 

They’d been flying mostly in silence, and Hancock jumped slightly when Haylen spoke up, her voice altered by her helmet. “Okay, I’m about to lose a lot of the navigation devices and switch to a hundred percent manual. We’ll have to hang kind of low so I can keep track of where we are while also avoiding flying into any buildings or hills. If you can both keep an eye out, I’d appreciate it.” 

“You got it,” Hancock said, eyes focused straight ahead on the glowing fog that seemed to blanket the area, hampering their visibility. 

“Erica, you got Virgil’s location marked on your map?” Haylen asked. 

“Let me pull it up,” Erica said. “It’s nice how the Pip-Boy interfaces with the armor at least.” 

“You’re going to need to give me some overall guidance and let me know if I’m veering off course.” 

“Will do,” Erica confirmed. 

“Erica, why didn’t you and Danse just fly in the first time?” Hancock asked. 

“I can actually answer that,” Haylen said. “We’re under orders not to fly in the Sea. Danse was always a stickler for following orders….” She paused. “Well, he used to be, anyway. Maxson would shit a brick if he saw us doing this right now. I told that pilot that we were flying to the edge of the sea, not that we were heading straight in… whoa, hang on, just a sec.” 

The vertibird swerved sickeningly as Haylen dodged the remains of a capsized factory that jutted up into the greenish-yellow sky. Erica groaned slightly, the sound breaking through the rapturous bliss of the radiation in Hancock’s head. 

“You okay, Sunshine?” Hancock said quietly. 

“Yeah, just kind of sick to my stomach,” she replied. 

“How’re your rad levels?” he asked. “I feel fucking amazing, so I hope the seals on that armor are pretty damn airtight.” 

“They’re slightly elevated but not dangerous,” Erica said. “Once we’re out of here, I’ll probably want to dose up with some Radaway, but I’m doing okay for right now.” 

He thumped on the armor. “Okay, just don’t want you to wind up looking like me.” He kept his voice light, but his heart clenched at the thought of his Erica having to undergo the same painful transformation as he did. Of course he would still love her if she became a ghoul—and the extended lifespan would certainly assuage several of his greatest worries—but he never wanted to put her through that sort of misery. Or the risk of something going wrong and her turning feral instead. It was still unclear why some people turned and kept their sanity while others lost everything about them that made them human, and it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. 

The vertibird swung back on track again, and it wasn’t long before Hancock could see the crater pass below them. The radiation was so high he could barely focus for the ecstasy seizing his body and brain, and he wondered at the small human community that had made its home in the crater. How on earth did they manage to stay alive down there? 

“Just a little bit to the east now, Haylen,” Erica said. “We’re almost there.” 

Hills rose in front of them, and Haylen carefully navigated her way through them. On the other side of the hill, Hancock could see what remained of a dead deathclaw. The thing was enormous, much bigger than those found in the rest of the Commonwealth, and his heart clenched at the thought of Erica going up against that thing. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered. 

“Tell me about it,” Erica replied. “Haylen, you can probably set us down here. Are you okay waiting out here with the ‘bird while John and I go in?”

“I was already planning on it,” Haylen said. “We can’t afford for anything to happen to this thing.” 

“Okay,” Erica said. “We’ll be quick.” 

They landed next to the dead monstrosity, and Erica and Hancock debarked. He followed her up a short path to an opening in the rocky hillside. As they entered, Erica was careful to swat at the hanging strings of cans to let Virgil know that they coming. The turrets swinging and chugging away ignored the two of them. Hancock could also hear the clanking of a Protectron.

“This guy don’t fuck around, huh?” he asked quietly. 

“He’s hiding from the Institute,” Erica replied. “Can you blame him?” She carefully put out a hand to stop Hancock from continuing down the tunnel. “Don’t forget—he turned himself into a super mutant. He looks scary, but he’s not dangerous.” 

He nodded. “Let’s do this.” They walked down into a small open area. Scientific instruments lined one wall. Standing next to them was a super mutant wearing a tattered lab coat that had been crudely tied onto him. Twine holding glasses in place around his enormous head completed the bizarre get-up. 

“Hey, Virgil,” Erica said. “It’s me, Erica.”

“Erica,” the super mutant rumbled. “You’re back. I… I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.” He glanced at Hancock. “What happened to your other friend?”

“That’s… a long story. But I got it, Virgil. I got the chip and I got it decoded. Just a second.” The power armor hissed and she stepped out of it. Hancock was momentarily startled but then realized that the small cave was nearly free from the radiation that blanketed the area. He wondered if Virgil had put up some kind of shielding and if so, why he had bothered. “It’s so good to get out of that damn armor,” Erica said, swiping an arm across her sweaty forehead. She rummaged around in one of her pockets and pulled out the holotape Tinker Tom had provided and handed it to Virgil. “Here you go.” 

The holotape looked ridiculously small and fragile in Virgil’s enormous green hands. He turned it over carefully and reverently before lumbering over to his computer setup and plugging it in. He studied the information, making some notes on a sheet of paper and typing on the keyboard. Finally, he ejected the holotape and handed it back to Erica. “There you go. The schematics are loaded on there. You’ll just need someone with some engineering knowledge to set it all up for you. I hope you have someone?”

Erica nodded. “I can think of a couple people who can probably handle it.” 

Hancock looked at her. “Tinker Tom?” he asked. 

“Possibly,” she answered. “Or Sturges.” 

He nodded slowly. Interesting choices, but each one came with potential obligations. They’d have to weigh their options and choose carefully. At least she hadn’t suggested the Brotherhood. 

“Virgil, I have to talk to you about something important,” Erica said. 

The super mutant looked surprised. “What else?” he asked. “I’ve given you all I can.” 

“No, nothing like that,” she said. “But remember how I told you that Kellogg was dead?”

“Yeeeees?” Virgil said, his eyebrows lowering. 

“I’m… not sure how to tell you this….” 

“You lied to me?” The mutant stood up to his full height. Hancock didn’t know how Erica thought Virgil wasn’t threatening. He felt extremely threatening right now. 

“He _was_ dead,” Erica said. “I swear to you. I killed him. But to access his memories, we had to connect a device we found in his brain up with a synth’s processing unit and… he sort of took over.” 

“Oh no,” Virgil said, sitting down heavily on a boulder, his hand covering his face.

“We had the synth trapped, but he got away,” Erica continued. “We’re pretty sure he’s heading your way.” 

Virgil looked up. “That shouldn’t be too big a deal. The Gen-3 synths are human enough that radiation is just as poisonous to them as it is to anyone else.” 

“That’s the problem though,” Erica said. “He’s not in a Gen-3. He’s in a… prototype. Still mostly metal. And definitely immune to radiation.”

“A prototype?” Virgil asked. “How did you get your hands on a prototype synth?”

“Your predecessors weren’t exactly careful about how they disposed of their trash,” Hancock said, his tone bitter. “Your grandparents threw Nick out onto the streets. He’s been living in Boston ever since. He’s good people. He offered to help Erica here, and as his reward, Kellogg’s now in control of him. Trust me, we ain’t happy about it either.” 

“We beat him here,” Erica said, “but we don’t know how far behind us he is. I want to keep you safe. Virgil, I want you to come with us, back to Goodneighbor. John here is the mayor. We can protect you.”

Hancock could swear that the super mutant’s green skin paled. “Leave the Sea?” Virgil asked. “No… I can’t do that. If not Kellogg, it will be someone else. I can’t stay that close to the Institute. It’s too risky.” 

Erica put her hand on the scientist’s enormous arm. “Virgil, remember the promise I made?” He nodded. Hancock raised his hairless eyebrows. _What promise?_ “If I’m going to keep that promise, we need to keep you safe. Besides,” she said with a slight smile. “Imagine how pissed Kellogg would be if he came all this way and found your cave empty.” 

Virgil looked back and forth between Erica and Hancock, clearly struggling with the decision.

“We have a vertibird outside,” Erica continued. “It’s just a short flight and then we’ll be in Goodneighbor and you’ll be safe. I’ll get my son and your serum. If you want to stay in Goodneighbor, we’ll find you a place. If you want to live in a settlement, we’ll work with the Minutemen to make sure nobody ever finds out who you are. You can have a whole new life.” She paused. “You’ve… you’ve given me so much help. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

The super mutant sighed. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll come with you. If for no other reason than to piss off Kellogg.” 

Erica beamed, but Hancock was nervous. They had discussed the possibility of Virgil coming back with them, but now it was a reality. As easy as Erica made it sound, the truth was that getting the other residents of Goodneighbor to accept a super mutant living among them was going to be a challenge. And how was he going to assimilate into a settlement? What was this serum Erica had mentioned. He had so many questions, but for now he’d try to reach Kent or Preston over the Pip-Boy on their way back to prepare them for the new arrival. As best as he could anyway.

Virgil looked around the room before picking up the main unit of his computer. “This is all I need,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

Erica stepped back into her armor, and the three of them headed up the tunnel. They stepped out into the swirling green of the Glowing Sea. None of them were prepared for the sight in front of them though. The vertibird sat silent. There was no sign of Haylen.

Hancock’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of Nick Valentine’s glowing eyes cutting through the fog. 

“Good to see you again, Virgil,” Kellogg’s voice growled as Valentine’s mouth moved. “I’ll deal with you in a second. First…” He raised his gun. “I gotta exact a little revenge.” Hancock reached into his pocket, but before he could retrieve what he’d stashed in there, Kellogg’s gun fired. Hancock flew back and hit the ground. Erica’s shriek of horror, altered by the monitor of her power armor, faded out as everything went dark.


	26. Chapter 26

He slowly became aware of the sounds that drifted in and out as he floated in the darkness. The one that was loudest, that seemed to pierce the fog swirling in his consciousness, was Erica’s furious shrieks. 

_ Erica.  _

He latched on to the thought of her and tried to force his brain to fight its way through the black fog. Loud bangs and fierce roars began to emerge, accompanying Erica’s enraged screams, and he fought even harder. 

Soon, he became aware of his body, the dense pain settling in his chest, the tingling in his arms and legs. Moments later, his eyes opened. 

Everything was a yellowish blur. He blinked a couple times, trying to clear his vision. Eventually, he realized that he was staring up into the swirling, radiation-poisoned murkiness of the Glowing Sea sky. He moved his fingers and toes, willing his body to respond to the signals his brain sent. His eyes darted about, trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything. 

He could feel the rocky, blasted ground beneath his back now. Small pebbles pressed sharply and uncomfortably against his buttocks. He could breathe more easily, although it remained awkward and painful. At the very outer edges of his vision, he saw something large and green moving more quickly than it had any right to. Something smaller and yellowish danced just out of its reach. The colors blended with the haze, making it difficult to distinguish what exactly he was seeing. 

Now the ground shook beneath him and a shadow fell across him. A figure in power armor bent over him and he was momentarily terrified before he recalled that both Erica and Haylen wore the armor now. He was unable to tell who was wearing this set before the figure tucked its armor-encased hands under his back and lifted him. The world spun and bobbed, and he realized he was being carried back to the vertibird. 

He wanted to tell whoever was carrying him to wait, to speak to him, to let him know who it was, but his voice was failing him. He simply didn’t have the breath to speak and his brain’s signals were misfiring. He tried to open his mouth, and his leg twitched instead. 

More details came to him… Kellogg horribly dressed as Nick Valentine, the abandoned vertibird, Virgil the super mutant…. 

_ The plans.  _

They had the plans to build a device that would get them into the Institute. They were so close. They couldn’t fail now. 

He stirred again, and the figure carrying him paused. 

“John?” 

It was Haylen who was carrying him. He could hear the difference in her and Erica’s inflection, even through the helmet. Besides, he should have known. Erica’s shrieks had never stopped although they had resolved into actual words. He heard a string of curses and then a shout for Virgil to try to catch hold. His brain was just struggling to parse the information.

“Haylen,” he rasped, his voice finally catching hold. 

“Oh thank God,” Haylen said, and he could hear the tears in her voice. “We thought you were dead.”

“Thinking maybe I was… a little bit,” he said, trying for some sort of humor to lighten this nightmare situation. “The pulse grenade, it’s still in my pocket.”

Armored hands patted his pocket. She was attempting to be gentle, but the movement caused him to wheeze in pain. “Sorry, John,” she said. “You took a shot straight to the chest. I’m trying to be careful.” 

“Glad I wore that damn armor then,” he muttered. “Not sure how bad it is, and now ain’t the time to look. Left pocket, sister. Unless you’re trying to feel me up.” 

She laughed. “Erica would strangle me.” Her fingers closed around the small, metallic canister. “Got it. Let’s end this.” 

“Set me down,” he said. She gently lowered him, and he found that his legs could now hold him. His movements were slow, but they were sure. “You do the honors then,” he said. 

She nodded and lumbered off toward the battle taking place. He could now see Erica’s power armor-clad form stomping back and forth in front of an outcropping of rocks on the hillside, dodging the shots that rained down. Valentine’s yellow eyes glowed from between two pillars of rocks, then disappeared momentarily as he ducked back, apparently to reload the assault rifle he was firing at them. Virgil roared and attempted to climb up the sheer face of the rock, but his body was too heavy and his fine motor skills too clumsy. 

Now was the chance, and Haylen didn’t hesitate. She armed the grenade and, thanks to the servos in her armor, launched it much farther than a human should have been able to throw it. The grenade soared over the heads of Erica and Virgil, landing on the outcropping near Kellogg. Kellogg paused only a moment to see what it was, but that hesitation was all it took. The grenade exploded in a blue flash and a crackling sizzle of electricity, and the synth’s robotic body dropped to the ground, motionless. He hoped to hell that Amari had been right, that no permanent damage had been done to Nick’s body. The intent was to incapacitate, not to kill. They’d keep the body safe until they found a way to remove Kellogg and restore Valentine. 

With Kellogg down, Erica sat heavily in her armor, so hard the ground shook, and then leaned over, rocking herself. He could hear her thin keen from where he was. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing—she still thought he was dead. She was mourning him. His heart broke, and he tried to run to her. His legs were still unsure though, and instead, he fell onto the hard-packed ground, knocking the wind out of his lungs and setting his chest newly on fire. 

He could only watch as Haylen approached Erica, placed a hand on her shoulder, and spoke to her. Erica’s head came up and turned toward him. He raised an arm uncomfortably and waved to her then couldn’t help but smile at her attempt to scramble to her feet, a difficult action to perform while encased in power armor. 

The ground trembled again as she lumbered toward him and then stopped short. It wasn’t like she could throw herself into his arms, of course, and it was clear that she was momentarily at a loss. 

“John?” she said, her voice wavering, choked with tears. 

He slowly rose to his feet and raised his hand to caress the helmet of her armor. “Sunshine,” he murmured. “I’m still here. Take more than that to get rid of me.” Metal-covered arms slowly wrapped around him and pressed him gently to the scarred chestplate of the armor. 

  
  
  
  
  


Erica and Haylen worked together to remove the motionless synth from the rock outcropping. It was much easier to find a decent foothold without a hailstorm of bullets. Hancock wondered how crazy Kellogg had been to try to take on a party of four that included a super mutant and two suits of power armor, then realized that his intent may not have been to survive this encounter, just to do as much damage as possible. The mercenary had to have known that killing Hancock was the worst thing he could do to Erica, and if they destroyed Nick Valentine’s body in retaliation, so much the better. 

Hancock wondered at that level of cruelty and pure evil and felt waves of gratitude that they had managed to thwart Kellogg’s plans. 

It had turned out that Kellogg had created a distraction to lure Haylen away from the vertibird and into the nearby hills. Haylen cursed herself for having fallen for it. 

“Maxson would have immediately banished me,” she said, her voice soft and horrified. “I’m so ashamed. I can’t believe I left you guys unguarded.” Erica and Hancock attempted to reassure her, but Virgil remained silent. Hancock was wondering what the scientist was thinking, but hesitated to ask. 

With two suits of power armor, a fully grown super mutant, the synth, and his skinny ghoul ass on board, the vertibird strained to get off the ground. “We’ll take it low and slow,” Haylen said, “same as our approach.” 

The vertibird flew over the shattered ground, taking the long way around deathclaw nests and carefully avoiding destroyed buildings and jutting hills. As they flew, Hancock continued to feel more like himself as the radiation continued to heal his damaged ribs and lungs. Breathing came easier, and the ache slowly faded. He wondered whether he had simply come close to death and the heavy rads had stopped the process in time or if he had in fact died and the radiation had somehow… jump-started him again. He thought maybe he didn’t really want to know the answer. He’d heard that glowing feral ghouls could give off enough radiation to raise their dead companions…. 

Eventually the evanescent glow of the Sea’s blanket of radiation faded, giving over to the darkness of the Commonwealth night while the ground beneath them transitioned from barren rocks to the scruffy underbrush and other struggling plantlife of the Wasteland. Hancock finally breathed a sigh of relief when the vertibird’s navigation system came back online and Haylen swerved to the northeast, flying higher and faster as they headed toward the heart of Boston.


	27. Chapter 27

Amari’s exam was thorough, but her hands on his chest and back were cold. He couldn’t help wincing. 

“I keep telling you, John. I’m not a trauma surgeon—I’m a brain specialist.” She sighed. “All I see is some bruising. I think you’ll be fine.” 

Erica’s brows furrowed. “So the bullet didn’t hit him?”

Haylen picked up the chest plate Hancock had worn under his ruffled shirt. There was an indentation on it, but no hole. “It never penetrated the armor,” she said. 

Hancock was irritated. “See, Sunshine? I’m fine.” 

Erica looked unsure. “You scared the shit out of me,” she said.

“What, and you didn’t scare me in fucking Greenetech?” He grimaced. “You were a lot deader than I was, Sunshine.” 

“I’m sure the force of the bullet striking your armor knocked your breath out of you,” Dr. Amari said, “and I suspect that you fractured a few ribs, too. It makes sense that you lost consciousness. And the high radiation probably played a role in your quick recuperation. But no, I don’t think you were ever actually dead, in the true sense of the word.” 

“Well, that’s a relief,” he said with a grin. 

“I swear, the two of you are like cats,” Haylen commented. “You both seem to have nine lives.” 

“Don’t say it out loud,” Erica said, shuddering. “You’ll jinx us.” She held her arm out to Dr. Amari. “I think this bag of Radaway is just about done.”

Dr. Amari checked the IV setup and the bags streaming anti-radiation medication to both Erica and Haylen, nodded to herself, and then skillfully withdrew the needles from both women’s arms. 

Hancock shrugged his shirt back on and buttoned it up. He nodded toward the corner where Nick Valentine’s motionless body lay on a gurney. “How’s ol’ Nicky looking there, Doc?” he asked. 

Amari checked her monitor. Wires and cords ran from Valentine to her computer, and she was running diagnostics, trying to determine what was still working and what needed to be repaired. “Most systems seem functional, just in sleep mode,” she said. I’ve disconnected the wire to his personality processing center since that seems to be where the problem is. I know I hesitated to cut the chip out before, but I think maybe we have no choice.” She sighed again. “I’m no more an engineer than I am a trauma surgeon, though. I’m not sure how to bring him back online. I think, if we had a copy of the original operating system ...” 

Haylen spoke up. “Maybe when Erica and John are in the Institute they can keep an eye out for backup copies of the files. They could download the data to a holotape and then upload it to the synth.” 

Erica gnawed at her lip. “Well, I promised that serum to Virgil. Looks like I’ll be doing some poking around anyway. Can’t hurt to try, right?”

“Seems like our best bet right now,” Hancock said. 

“Speaking of Virgil,” Amari said, her voice hesitant. “I appreciate that you’re trying to protect him, but I do have some concerns. I’m not sure how… stable… his mutation is. I examined him a couple hours ago, and we discussed the course of the virus and how his mutation has been proceeding. His personality and intelligence appear to be fully intact, but given that I never met him prior to his FEV infection, it’s impossible to say what may have changed. He has some concerns that his fine motor skills are continuing to deteriorate, which could mean that the virus has yet to run its course.”

“So he might go full mutie?” Hancock asked. 

“Perhaps,” Amari replied. “There’s no way to say. But I think you need to be aware of the possibility. Time may not be on our side.”

Hancock sighed. “When has it ever been?” he asked. “Thanks, Elena. I appreciate your insight—and your doctoring.” He turned to Erica. “Well, Sunshine, the ball’s in your court. What now? You got a teleporter to build.” He chuckled. “There’s some words I never thought I would say. So who’s got enough know-how to help you build this thing? I love you, but you ain’t no engineer.”

She smiled. Dogmeat had been watching from the doorway during Amari’s examination and her Radaway treatment. The dog trotted over to her now and she reached down, burying her hands in the dog’s fur and scratching the side of his neck. 

“Well, initially I was thinking Tinker Tom might be the right guy, but honestly, I’m kind of concerned about involving the Railroad too much. I’m happy to help them, but I don’t think anything good can come from giving them unlimited access to the Institute. They’re rather… single-minded, and I’d prefer not to go in guns blasting. We have too many questions that need answers.”

“Obviously the Brotherhood is out,” Haylen said with a sad smile. 

Erica nodded. “You know? I’m wondering if Sturges could build it. He’s pretty damn handy. I’m still amazed at everything he’s done at Sanctuary. And I know he’s discreet, too. Let’s try to get him on a closed radio frequency, see if he’s up to the task. I’ll talk to Preston about it, too.” She paused. “It will probably mean another trip up to Sanctuary, though.” 

Hancock nodded. “It’s fine, Sunshine,” he said. He meant it, too. He’d already followed her into hell and back. What was another trip to Sanctuary after all? “Did you want to go see where Preston’s hiding out then? He might be in his room up at the Rexford. Can’t imagine him drinking his woes away down in the Rail.” His lips quirked upward at the thought of straightlaced Preston getting shitfaced down in his bar. Would probably do the guy some good, honestly. 

“Actually,” Erica said, standing up and hopping down from the table she’d been perched on. “What I really want right now is a bath.” 

Hancock’s eyes gleamed. “Coming right up,” he said with a grin.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They both took turns in the tub, switching out the water between them, washing away all the filth, grime, and sweat from their trip to the Sea. They’d probably be back on the road tomorrow, but they had tonight to themselves, and Hancock fully intended to take advantage of that fact. It felt like they’d had hardly any alone time since Erica had gotten back, and he didn’t know when their next opportunity would be. 

He wrapped a towel around his skinny ass and headed back to his room. He was delighted to find that Erica was clearly in the same headspace as he was—she was lying on his bed, stark naked except for her glasses, reading a book from his shelf. Dogmeat was curled up in a corner of one of the couches. He raised his head and wuffed lightly at Hancock’s arrival, then tucked his head back down and was soon snoring. Hancock chuckled. He was glad to have the dog with them. He hadn’t been so sure at first, but Dogmeat had definitely won him over. It was a shame that healthy dogs were such a rarity in the Wasteland. 

Erica looked up at him and smiled. She set the book aside and patted the quilt next to her. Without hesitation, he dropped the towel on the floor and jogged across the room to her. She threw her head back, and loud, happy peals of laughter filled the room. He grinned and then pounced, turning her laughter into a delighted squeal. 

Peppering her face and neck with kisses, he removed her glasses and carefully set them on the nightstand next to the book. He ran her curls, still damp from her bath, through his fingers and smiled as her hands snaked around his neck. They matched so perfectly. He thought back for a moment, to the old days, before he’d met her. He’d never in a million years dreamed he’d find anyone who he wanted to be with for the rest of his life—at least, anyone who also wanted to be with him. Now….

He had some thoughts about that, but he’d wait. Wait until she found her son. Then… well, he’d already talked to Daisy and she’d found what he was looking for, and he kept it in the inner pocket of his coat, close to his heart, until the right time came along. 

With the trip to the Glowing Sea over, he truly hoped the most dangerous part of their journey was over. All that was left now was to get inside the Institute, find her son, try to track down that serum and the Valentine files… okay, they had some work to do, but it didn’t seem dangerous in the sense that plunging into the Glowing Sea headfirst, killing Coursers, and taking on deathclaws and Kellogg were dangerous. These Institute people must be soft; they’d lived their entire lives underground after all. A bunch of scientists for pity’s sake. If Erica could reason with his jackass of a brother, she could surely reason with the scientists. 

But all of that was in the future. Right now, he had Erica here in front of him, and they were both naked and fresh from the bath, and it was all he wanted. 

She was gazing up to him, her gray eyes dark in the lantern light. He traced a finger from her jawline down her neck, between her breasts, over her belly, and through the patch of hair where her legs met. Goosebumps appeared on her skin, following his touch, as if he were drawing them on her. He smiled and then followed the track of goosebumps with his mouth, kissing her soft skin, occasionally drawing a light line with his tongue. 

She sighed and arched her back up to him. He delighted in her desire for him, and it never failed to surprise him. He slid his hands under her buttocks and raised her hips to him. He dipped forward and ran his tongue along her lips, dipping into her, and gently sucking at her clit. He couldn’t get enough of her, as if he were starving. The high-pitched noises she made fueled him, drove him further, and he buried himself in her. Her fingers pressed against his head, and he loved every second. Her hips moved in rhythm, but soon they were stuttering as her body trembled. He paused, and she cried out. 

“John, no—please…” 

“Don’t worry, Sunshine,” he murmured. “I ain’t done.” He nudged her until she rolled to her side, although he could see on her face that she was unsure. Scooting up, he gave her a kiss. “I ain’t gonna leave you like that.” He paused, feeling the weight of his words. “Ever.” 

Reaching across her, he pulled open the drawer to find the familiar bottle. He handed it to her, and she smiled. Once she’d popped a couple of the capsules, he spooned up against her back and pulled the quilt over them both. He then pulled her to him, his arms going around her, one hand lightly stroking her breast, the other slipping back between her legs. She rolled forward slightly, giving him better access, and he took full advantage. 

He pressed up against her back, and moved his hand for a moment to guide himself into her. She moaned and slid a leg back and over his, hooking her toes around his calf. He moved his hand back, slipping it around her waist and lightly stroked her clit as he moved slowly into her again, and again. She pushed back against him in rhythm, and over time their movements became more and more frantic, and his hands moved faster and faster….

She came with a cry and seemed to melt into him as she ground against him and clenched, her whole body quivering. He couldn’t hold back and quickly followed, groaning into her neck. They lay like that together, his arms around her, gently caressing her until they both fell asleep.


	28. Chapter 28

Erica, Hancock, and Preston left Goodneighbor for Sanctuary the next morning. Erica was so keyed up that she was nearly vibrating, practically counting the hours until they arrived and Sturges could get to work. She and Preston walked ahead, chatting happily. 

Hancock followed, shotgun close at hand. He didn’t want to remind her that she’d already been absolutely positive she was about to reach her son only to be horribly disappointed. The idea of the teleporter was concerning, and it made him so jittery that he inhaled puff after puff of Jet. The chem barely touched his worry though, and his brain continued to gnaw on it. 

He’d thought there was no question about him going with her, but what would they find when they got there? He doubted anyone in the Institute had ever seen a ghoul. He hated to admit it, but maybe Preston should be the one who should accompany her. The Minuteman tended more toward diplomacy, and the people of the Institute would be more likely to listen to him rather than kill him outright or, worse, keep him to experiment on. 

He shuddered. After talking to Virgil, he was even more horrified at the shit that had gone on down there. He tried not to hold the former Institute scientist responsible, but it was hard. To a certain extent Brian Virgil was responsible, though, even though he had eventually pulled the plug. If he had a serum that could reverse FEV infection though…. 

He also wondered if they’d be able to find Erica’s son—or if the boy was even still alive. He’d clearly been used as bait by Kellogg, but with Kellogg gone… maybe the Institute had no use for the child anymore. And why had they even taken the boy in the first place? It all smelled rotten. 

“Maybe you guys could keep it down,” he said with a bite he didn’t intend. “You’re gonna attract every super mutant within a five-mile radius.”

Erica turned to look at him, brows furrowed, and he immediately felt guilty. She put a hand on Preston’s arm, said something to him, then fell back to walk in step with Hancock. He was afraid to look at her. 

“What’s going on?” she asked in a low voice. 

“Nothing,” he said, feeling peevish. “You two are just making a lot of racket is all. I’m half deaf, and I think you’re noisy, so it must be even worse than that.” He hated how on edge he felt. It made him feel like snapping at her, and he wasn’t keen on starting a fight. 

She studied him for a moment before commenting. “You’re worried.” 

He didn’t respond. 

“I’m worried too, you know,” she said. 

“Doubt we’re worried about the same things,” he replied. 

“Maybe,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re worried about.” 

“It’d probably be easier to tell you what I ain’t worried about.” He sighed and took another hit of Jet. 

“Okay, then what aren’t you worried about?” she asked.  

“You and me,” he said with a crooked grin, sliding an arm around her waist. She laughed and leaned in to kiss his cheek. He thought again about the small pouch in his inner coat pocket. They just had to get through this last little bit. Maybe it was time to keep his worries to himself. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


They arrived in Sanctuary the next day. Preston had radioed ahead, and Sturges met them at the bridge. They followed him to his home, where he’d set up a monitor. Once the information was uploaded, he studied it carefully. 

“I’m pretty sure I can build this,” he said in his gentle drawl. “But there’s one problem.” 

Erica and Hancock exchanged a glance. 

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Erica said. Her words were light, but her tone gave her away her anxiety. 

“This thing’ll only send one person,” Sturges said. 

Hancock’s breath caught in his throat. This was a problem he hadn’t anticipated. 

Erica’s face had gone white. “That can’t be right, Sturges,” she said. “I was counting on John coming with me.” 

“Sunshine, I was actually going to recommend that Preston go with you,” Hancock said. She turned to him, a look of betrayal on her face. “Hang on, before you get pissed, let me explain.” He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “These people ain’t never seen a ghoul before, and we know they do crazy shit like experiment on living, breathing humans. Imagine what they’d do to me? Of course I want to go with you, be with you, especially when you find your boy. But it will do nobody any good at all if I’m shot the moment I materialize in there or wind up tied up to a table somewhere.” 

She froze, her eyes wide. “That… honestly hadn’t even occurred to me, John,” she said. She blinked a few times, and he realized she was trying to hold back tears. “You’re right. They’ll probably be horrible to you.” 

“It sounds like it’s a moot point at any rate,” Preston said. 

Sturges nodded. “Yeah, it ain’t ideal, but Erica’s gonna have to do this one on her own. Be sure to wear that Pipboy when you go, darlin’. If nothin’ else, maybe you can send us a signal when you get there.” 

She nodded. “I hate that damn thing, but yeah, I’ll wear it.” She studied the blueprints and code that flickered on the screen. “I don’t know what any of this stuff means, but I trust you, Sturges.” 

“I’ll get started on it today,” he said. “It’ll be a day or two, though. I’ll have to check with Carla, too, see if she has any of these more unusual components. She always comes here with the fancy stuff since I’m usually happy to buy it off her.” 

Hancock removed a sack of caps from his coat pocket. “Buy whatever you need with this,” he said. “Let me know if you need more.” 

Sturges nodded, his attention mostly on his computer monitor. “You got it, Mayor.” 

Outside, Hancock felt lost again. There was nothing to do but wait while Sturges built the device. On the other hand… he’d had every intention of waiting, but if Erica was going in there alone….

There was no telling what she’d run into. Maybe it was time after all. 

He took her hand, and they headed toward the river. Preston waved and walked down the street to the home he’d made his own. They passed a playground filled with kids, and Hancock noted Erica looking at them wistfully. He was sure she was imagining her own son playing there with them at some point in the very near future. 

A few other couples had found their way down by the riverbank. It seemed their once-quiet spot was becoming a popular romantic destination. A few of the people glanced their way, and he couldn’t help but notice the looks of surprise and disgust. _Screw them_ , he thought. 

He led her a bit further along the river, around the bend, away from the cluster of people, then helped her down to the dry grass before flopping on the ground next to her. 

“Wanted to talk to you about something before you head off into parts unknown,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. 

She brushed her hand against his cheek, and he leaned into it, kissing her palm. “Of course,” she said. “What’s up?”

He laughed a bit, nervous. “I… uh. I ain’t never done anything like this before, so I want to say sorry in advance if I screw it up.” 

Erica raised her eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding, then reached into the inner pocket of his coat. He held his closed fist in front of him for a moment, his eyes also closed, and then he opened both his eyes and his hand. Lying on his scarred palm was a small, slightly battered gold ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving you on a different kind of cliffhanger this week.....


	29. Chapter 29

_Yeah, he was fucking it up alright._ His mouth had gone completely dry as he ran through multiple statements in his head, none of them exactly right. 

Finally, he cleared his throat and looked up at her. To his surprise, she was watching his face, her eyes bright, and a small smile dancing in the corner of her lips. 

 _Well, here goes nothing._  

“I, uh… when I thought I’d be going with you, I was thinking we’d talk when we got back. But now you’re going on your own, and….” He trailed off, trying to connect his thoughts together. He’d never had this kind of problem before. He looked back up at her again. A tear was slipping down her cheek. _Oh shit_ —was that good or bad? His mind was going a million miles an hour as was his heart. “I just need you to know, when you’re there, that I love you and I’m here for you and I’m here for your son too, and… and my tourin’ days are over, Sunshine, because I’ve got you, and that’s all I need, and….” The words were tumbling out now, and he paused to catch his breath. 

“John.” Her voice was quiet but it cut through the babble in his brain and got his attention. 

He swallowed. “Yeah… yeah, Sunshine?” He could barely breathe. How did people do this? It was easily the most frightening thing he’d ever done—more frightening than taking on Vic. 

“Yes.” 

_Wait._

_What?_

“Y- yes?”

“Yes.” A huge smile spread across her face, and his heart nearly punched right through his chest. Was it actually going to be that easy? His hands were shaking as he took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. Daisy was a goddamn genius—the thing fit perfectly. 

She held her hand up in front of her face, turning it this way and that so the gold could catch the light. The ring, like everything else in the world, himself included, had seen better days, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful than the sight of it on her hand. He pulled her to him and sealed the moment with a deep kiss. His hand entwined with hers, and he could feel the new sensation of the ring on her finger brushing against his own scarred and twisted skin. It felt like a miracle. 

She leaned into him and he lay back, until he was lying back on the dry grass and she was hovering over him. He opened his eyes. She was silhouetted by the sun and her features were almost impossible to make out. She dipped forward, and their lips found each other again. He clasped her to him. Her hand cupped his cheek, and again he could feel the ring. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it—in a way, he hoped not. It was a solid reminder that she loved him, and it completely blew him away. 

She leaned back for just a moment. “We should… probably go somewhere else. Unless you _want_ an audience, of course,” she said with a smile.

 _Let ‘em watch_ was his first reaction, but that would probably lead to multiple interruptions and he didn’t want that. She sat up and he got to his feet, holding his hand out to help her up. The ring caught the light again, and he couldn’t help but grin. Still holding hands, they walked back up to her house. 

“So… do we set a date or what?” she asked. 

 _Uh oh._ Did she not know what she was saying yes to? _Shit._ He _knew_ he’d fuck this up!

He stopped and pulled her to him. “Engagement isn’t really a thing anymore, Sunshine.” 

She looked down at her hand again. “You mean….”

“I’m sorry. I shoulda clarified that. You can change your mind if you want to.” He gritted his teeth, waiting for it. 

Delight spread across her face. “So I’m Erica Hancock now?” 

His heart actually skipped a beat hearing her say that. He didn’t even know that was possible. “Is that… okay? Ain’t much in the way of legal or formal proceedings these days.” 

She threw herself into him again. “We need to get you a ring too, then.”

He laughed. “We can. I’ll be proud to wear it, Sunshine.”

They practically ran back to Erica’s house. 

  
  
  
  
  


With Sturges working on the molecular relay, they had nothing but time. They stumbled through the house, losing bits of clothing as they went. His hat landed on the couch, her shirt skittered across the kitchen table to land on the floor. They laughed as they went, drunk on each other and the moment. 

Once in the bedroom, she practically threw him down on the bed, grinning as she quickly removed the last few remaining bits of his clothing. He happily returned the favor. Neither of them could wait, and before he could really think, he was inside her. Just like outside, she hovered above him, but her face was clear this time. Her expression was soft, her eyes dreamy, and she leaned forward to kiss him as they rocked together. Her hands were on his chest and his eyes moved between the ring and her face, unable to believe his own luck. The tide had finally turned. It was all going to turn out okay—he just knew it. 

He was thrilled to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring Erica—his wife! There wasn’t an inch of her that he hadn’t already memorized, but somehow it all felt completely new, and he was happy to rediscover her over and over. He couldn’t believe he’d get to spend the rest of her life rediscovering her. 

They dozed for an hour or two, then woke up and continued their explorations. The afternoon passed, then the evening, and it was dark before they finally emerged to see about something to eat (other than each other). 

Hand in hand, they wandered over to Sturges’ home across the street. They could hear clanging from around the side of the house and headed in that direction to investigate. 

The site that greeted them caused them both to stare in wonder. At some point during the day, an enormous platform had taken shape. A strange device towered over it, three metal legs rising gracefully into the sky and converging over the center of the platform in a tangle of wires and complicated design. Sturges was perched on one of these legs, knocking a piece of metal into place, frequently consulting a scrap of paper. A moment later, he spotted them and waved, before climbing down the enormous metal leg. 

“Hey y’all! As you can see, it’s coming along pretty well!”

Erica’s mouth was open in amazement. “It’s… huge!”

“Well, there’s a lot of tech in there. I ain’t even built the device that controls all this yet.” He swiped an arm across his sweaty forehead. “I think I’m about ready to call it a night, though. Y’all had dinner yet?”

“Nope, that’s why we came over,” Hancock said. “Thought we could all eat together. You seen Preston?”

“Oh, he’s around somewhere,” Sturges answered. “Last I saw him, he was inside looking over some maps. Guy is still set on taking back the Castle, but he’s gonna wait until Erica here gets back.”

The inside of Sturges’ house was bright and warm. Sure enough, Preston was seated at the table studying a map. He looked up as the small group came in and smiled. 

“I haven’t seen you two all afternoon,” he said. “I was afraid you’d changed your mind and run off.”

Erica smiled. “Not a chance.”

“I think that thing’ll be ready tomorrow,” Sturges said as he pulled some dishes from his cupboard. He opened his refrigerator and rummaged around a bit before pulling out some cold cooked radstag. He set it all out and the group dug in. 

As Erica passed the platter of radstag to Hancock, her ring caught the light again. Hancock noticed both Preston’s and Sturges’ brows raise and the glance they exchanged. 

Preston cleared his throat. “Are uh… are congratulations in order?”

Erica paused, and looked to Hancock. He grinned at her, took the platter, and waited to see what she would do. A smile bloomed across her face and she held her hand up in the timeless gesture of any new bride. 

Preston jumped to his feet and clapped Hancock on the back, and Sturges ducked back into the kitchen before emerging with a bottle of mutfruit wine and several chipped mugs. He poured them each out a mugful of the wine before lifting his own mug. 

“To Mayor Hancock and Erica!” They all lifted their mugs. Hancock glanced over at Erica and spotted the tears that were standing in the corners of her eyes. He made a point of tapping his mug against hers first before clicking it against Preston’s. 

“To tomorrow,” she said in a small voice, and they all clicked their mugs together to that toast as well.


	30. Chapter 30

The next day, she was keyed up and antsy—almost jittery. He tried everything he could think of to distract her, but nothing worked. She was apologetic but couldn’t help herself, and after she snapped at him a couple times, he thought it would be best to just let her be for a while. 

He went down to the river and sat on the bridge, smoking. He remembered back to the first time he’d sat here, and he smiled and shook his head in wonder. Quite a lot had happened since then. He wondered how Fahrenheit would react to the news that she now had a stepmother… and then wondered how Dr. Amari would feel about trying to pick a knife out of his shoulder. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was antsy, too. He hated the idea of Erica heading into the unknown alone, but it was completely out of his control. Nothing was going to keep her from leaving at this point. He was also terrified of the fact that he was now, essentially, stepfather to Erica’s son—a son who had lived his whole life so far locked away from the outside world… a son who had probably never seen a ghoul. His hands shook just thinking about it. Would the kid like him? Or be afraid of him? He didn’t want to go around scaring anybody, but knew perfectly well that someone who didn’t know about ghouls would probably find his appearance shocking. He sighed and lit a fresh cigarette, chasing the tip with a trembling flame. 

There were still so many questions, too. He hoped Erica wouldn’t have too much trouble locating either the serum for Virgil or the files for Nick. So much was riding on this trip. And what were they going to do about the Institute once Erica’s son was out of there? He remembered Erica and Haylen saying something about the Brotherhood having some ideas… and he was sure the Railroad had something up their sleeves as well. At that point, Erica would have the lay of the land… and she’d be a rather valuable asset, he thought with a grimace. He was more than happy to step in as needed, though, to keep her safe and keep those who would use her at bay. 

It wasn’t long before Preston joined him. Hancock offered the other man a smoke, which he accepted with a smile. 

“How’s that thing coming along?” he asked. 

Preston smoked for a minute before answering, then he did so with a touch of awe in his voice. “It’s almost done. I can’t believe he was able to put that thing together. The man’s a genius.” 

Hancock cut his eyes sideways to Preston, noting his tone, then smiled. _Hey, good for them_. “So this is really happening today then,” he said, trying not to betray his racing thoughts. 

“I guess so,” Preston replied. “How’s she dealing with it?”

“She’s a bit keyed up,” Hancock said with a chuckle. “There’s a reason I’m out here.” 

Preston shifted his position on the bridge a bit. “Uh oh, trouble in paradise?”

Hancock smiled. “Nah. I know she’s nervous. She has every reason to be on edge today.”

“And what about you?” Preston said with a glance. “Big changes in store.” 

Hancock slowly nodded. “Yeah… Could be I’m a bit on edge myself.”

Preston stubbed out his cigarette and slowly got up. “I think it’ll all turn out okay.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Hancock said thoughtfully, watching the water as it trickled under his feet. A moment later, he heard feet thudding on the wooden boards of the bridge and looked up. Erica was running up, breathless, her eyes wide and terrified. 

“John,” she said. “It’s ready.”

  
  
  
  
  


They all stood out back of Sturges’s place, staring in awe at the enormous construction that was now sparking and throwing off bolts of blue electricity. 

“You want her to stand in that thing?” Hancock yelled, trying to make himself heard over the racket of the relay device. “Are you outta your damn mind?”

“Sorry,” Sturges called out, also trying to make himself heard. “I can’t help the electrical. This thing runs on a lot of juice. It’s just discharging the excess.”

The mechanic stepped over to where Erica stood with Hancock, who had one of his arms wrapped protectively around her. She herself was practically vibrating with nerves. Sturges pulled a holotape out of the pocket of his overalls. 

“I know you got a lot goin’ on,” he said in a gentle tone, “but this is a huge opportunity—for all of us. If you get a chance, can you stick this in one of their computers? It’ll automatically download a buncha info off their mainframe, and hopefully we can use that to figure out what they’re up to and what we can do about it.” 

She nodded and accepted the holotape with shaking hands, putting it in her own pack for safekeeping. Once it was safely stashed, she turned to Sturges and pulled him into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” 

The mechanic met Hancock’s eyes before speaking. “I got a pretty good idea, miss. You ready to go get your boy now?” 

She nodded, and Hancock noted that her eyes were wet. His own hands were shaking now as he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as he possibly could. He kissed her cheek. “I love you, Sunshine. Be as safe as you can. We’ll be monitoring the radio. If you can, get a message out on your Pipboy and let us know you’re okay.” She nodded again. 

“I love you so much, John,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m glad to be finally doing this but… I’m so scared.” 

“If you weren’t scared, I’d think you’d lost your mind,” he said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Stay on your toes, and it’ll be alright.” He kissed her again, more deeply this time, and she kissed him back, clinging to him. Finally, he let her go, and with one more glance in his direction, she walked toward the bizarre contraption. 

Sturges, recognizing that the time was now, moved toward the control panel with the monitor and various other gauges. He checked a few then turned to her. “Stand right in the middle,” he shouted. She stepped on to the platform and turned, locking eyes with Hancock. 

“Alright, here we go!” Sturges called out. Her mouth moved, and he could make out the words easily: _I love you._

A moment later, there was a blinding flash. The three men threw their arms up against the brightness. When Hancock finally lowered his arm, the device stood silent, scorched. 

And, once again, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends Part 2. 
> 
>    
> The story continues at https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722260/chapters/51815803

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Nothing ever goes right the first time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680817) by [Danypooh80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danypooh80/pseuds/Danypooh80)




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